


The Pit

by GreyPigeon



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Akechi Goro Redemption, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dom/sub, Domestic Discipline, Emotional Baggage, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Smut, Hospitalization, Imprisonment, M/M, Mental Institutions, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Suicide Attempt, Threesome - M/M/M, smut starts at Ch 4, there is a happy ending to it I promise, velvet room fuckery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 80,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyPigeon/pseuds/GreyPigeon
Summary: Just like his mask can hold multiple Personas, Ren’s heart can hold more than one beloved. After almost breaking up because of the feelings secretly harboured for Akechi, Ren and Yusuke rebuild their world from the ground up. And though there is next to no hope of ever seeing Goro again, Yusuke knows Ren cannot be truly happy, being left with only the bitter knowledge that Goro is alive, somewhere. When fate finally brings the three back together, Ren and Yusuke go out of their way to help, regardless the consequences.Is it even possible to fully come back from Akechi had done? Are there really people out there, willing to put enough effort, patience and love into putting him back together? And for what? Is he even worth it? Because he himself knows he isn't.Also, what happens if he hurts said people in the process, even if that is no longer his intention...?[AkeShuKita, mainly post P5R True Ending, Akechi redemption arc]
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kitagawa Yusuke, Akechi Goro/Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Amamiya Ren & Kitagawa Yusuke, Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 83
Kudos: 123





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dirtbagtrashcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtbagtrashcat/gifts), [Arsoemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsoemon/gifts).



> This will be a beast of a story in terms of length I can only hope I will have enough determination to finish it... please mind the tags as it has lots of explicit themes. 
> 
> I humbly gift this piece to dirtbagtrashcat and Arsoemon! Two writers whose stories I encountered as I dove headlong into P5R, pretty early into the game. Their works made a big impression on me and stuck with me for better and for worse, they keep me returning to their stories and I'm seriously glad they inspired me to try and write some Persona 5 fics. You will probably find some homage there! It ain't much, but it's honest work - and it's for you two. Thank you ;)
> 
> Please tell me what you feel about the story in the comments, I welcome criticism too as I am trying to improve my writing. This is deeply personal to me, and in a way it was written by my long-forgotten self propelled by feels and caffeine, but it's also an attempt to say something potentially uplifting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi appers on Christmas Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene below is a Christmas Eve scene reimagined; I really wanted to write it, because it completely frustrated me in the game, but if you feel like re-visiting things straight from the game isn't necessarily your thing, feel free to skip to the next chapter - the story unfolds properly from there.

  
**~*~**

The city was alight.

Myriads of fairy lights on shop windows, bouquets of holly and evergreens on every display. Neon signs and ads, all perfectly monothematic. Children running around in red-and-white hats, accompanying their parents who would smile, shake their heads and let them run in excitement, just this once. As if nothing even happened, as if Shibuya hasn’t been a bloodrain-soaked pandemonium just a couple of hours before. 

“Are you sure you want to be alone right now…?” A silent voice on his right, concerned and dripping with tiredness. 

“Yes, it’s okay… I’m heading to LeBlanc in a little while. I’m too tired to think,” Ren answered and reached for Yusuke’s hand, but the painter shied away from the touch. 

“We’re on the street,” came a small whisper. Ren sighed.

“We’ve saved them all and I can’t even hold your hand in the open?”

Yusuke’s eyes were sad, but the only concession he made was standing a tiny bit closer.

“Not fair.” Ren sighed and closed his eyes. He glanced up at the sky; he could not see the stars. It was too bright in the big city.

“They don’t need to know,” Yusuke said suddenly. “I don’t think their acknowledgment matters. The only important thing is that we know what really happened and that we did the right thing. Even if it means that I cannot hold your hand on the street.”

Ren sighed. He knew. Sometimes he wished Yusuke was less careful about what’s proper, though. 

“We’ll see each other tomorrow,” he said, turning to face him. “Go and get some sleep, Yusuke. You’re barely standing. Are you going to be okay on your own?”

“I will. Maybe…” he hesitated, “Maybe I could come a bit earlier to LeBlanc tomorrow?...”

Ren smiled through half-lidded eyes. Sometimes Yusuke would sneak out of the Kosei dorms at first light, arrive at LeBlanc long before the opening time and Ren would open the doors for him, wrapped in a blanket, still sleepy and warm; they would catch a few hours of blissful sleep nestled together, a heap of entwined limbs and shared body heat, or Ren would make sweet love to Yusuke in the attic, reducing him to a teary-eyed, moaning mess he would never consciously show to the rest of the world. 

“Please,” Ren mouthed with his brow slightly furrowed. “I miss this. I miss you.”

“I’ll be there. Take care on your way home… Ren?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

Ren smiled.

“I love you too.”

Yusuke flashed him a very tired smile and quickly disappeared in the crowd of people carrying on where they had been left in their tracks, rushing last Christmas errands and going on corporate parties to break stupid crackers over a plate of sushi.

Ren stared at a dirty, soaked newspaper left on the pavement, with some catchy title printed in a bold font on the first page. He stood in the neon glory of a busy Tokyo square, thinking about all the people passing him by. He was bone tired, whacked, almost ready to collapse on the spot - but his legs were carrying him anyway, away from his friends, loved ones and the cozy safety of LeBlanc, into the bright city full of people.

We have saved them all. 

Was it worth it...?

Ren really, truly only wanted to save one person, but he had to be content with the whole Japan instead.

He stopped in front of the window of a bar, filled with people. A lot of them foreign-looking. Ren glanced up at the signboard; an Irish pub. Music caught his attention; it was a rather ardent melody, and Ren would swear he had heard it somewhere already, heavy on the fiddle and some sloppy piano.

Would Akechi like this...? Probably not. He was a bit too sophisticated to appreciate a crude tune of folk music. Nevertheless, Ren would have liked to ask him.

Talk to him. See him, if only once more. Witness the single raised eyebrow and a critical stare as he would appraise the scene, hear the clipped answer about the taste in music revealing some personality traits and a jab that a country boy shouldn’t be expected to grasp the intricacies of jazz in so short a time. Tease him long enough for the fake, polite smile that would not reach his eyes to be replaced by mild annoyance and the involuntarily cute scowl as he would turn around and simply drag Ren away from the window. 

Ren would have liked to see Akechi live.

The waitresses were carrying big trays of beer and wine around, and people were swaying on their chairs, following the words of the notorious Christmas song; a young woman in a red, plaid skirt was standing in the middle, singing aloud and giving tempo, prompting the lyrics to everyone around. Ren kept looking, allowing the tiredness seep slowly away from him; the longer he looked, the more invested he was. The girl was pretty. People were actually happy, for once. 

Maybe, just maybe... it was worth it...?

A mother and daughter passed him on the pavement; the girl was obviously happy, clutching a big porcelain doll. Behind him two men were talking about an elderly aunt, who was supposed to come live with one of them. An uptight, black-haired man in square glasses gave his son a pat on the head; the boy in a blue jacket was holding a small, dirty puppy, obviously a stray. The man shook his head with a grimace, but his eyes were affectionate. ‘Yui is going to kill me,’ Ren heard him mutter.

Ren smiled to himself. Yeah. Maybe it was.

“I didn’t expect to find the world’s savior alone on Christmas Eve.”

Ren turned around abruptly. He saw Sae coming up to him, standing shoulder to shoulder. 

“...Can I talk to you for a minute?” She asked tentatively, her expression uncertain. 

Ren nodded and turned around to face her fully, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the bar window; he was really not in the mood to talk right now, and became even more unwilling once he had heard the real reason she wanted to talk - he was really, seriously, honest-to-goodness _tired_ \- and he had no patience for this, not now… 

Ren shut his eyes briefly, staring into the darkness of his aching skull with a tired sigh. He just knew it. All the unease he had felt as he saw her gave way to plain and simple disappointment. It hadn't been enough to battle to the death in a near hopeless effort no other people would even _want_ to undertake; it hadn't been enough to save the world, kill a God, restart humanity’s chances to continuing on in blissful ignorance. It was not enough to be a hero. For crying out loud.

“Turn myself in, huh?” He muttered, his slowly opening eyes going back to the pub window on an autopilot. The laughing woman in a red plaid skirt was dancing, swirling in the arms of her partner, sending smiles everywhere and singing along with the crowd.

“I will need your testimony to prove Shido guilty, I will have to prove that it was possible to commit crimes through the use of the Metaverse… However, there’s no way the police or public prosecutors will let the leader of the Phantom Thieves go Scot free. If you turn yourself in, you'll definitely be arrested.”

Ren shot Sae a sharp look. Arrest meant violating his probation, juvie for God knows how long, breaking his school curriculum, maybe having to repeat the year. Possibly an amercement he had no money for or community service that could drag for months. It meant ruining the last shot he had at making peace with his parents. It meant only seeing his friends and Yusuke once every blue moon through a fucking plexiglass pane. That’s what turning himself in meant. No one was going to treat him as a hero, especially not the police. 

Ren felt bile rise in his throat; he really wasn’t looking forward to being cuffed, interrogated, and forced to nurse another broken rib.

“I’ll make Shido pay for what he's done. I intend to expose all of his accomplices.” Sae added, her words full of determination, as if she wanted to lend him some strength and convince him to do the right thing. “It’s to prevent the society from becoming distorted again. That’s what you want too, isn’t it?” Oh, sure. Now she was laying it on a bit thick. The people he fought for and the dancing girl kept singing, unaware and happy.

Ren shifted his weight and crossed his arms, bracing himself against the chill that suddenly started to bother him. He already knew what he was going to say, even though it made him feel absolutely fed up; he just couldn’t bring himself to voice it, not when the people in the bar were so happy, cheering on with drinks in their hands and clapping loudly as the young man in a white-knit sweater bent the girl back and kissed her on the lips. Ren wanted to look at them drinking and dancing until the night waned into morning; he didn’t want to be contemplating any more right-things-to-do. Fine, he'd do it, but he just wished so badly Sae would leave him alone right now... 

Oh for fuck’s sake... He will have to ask Futaba or Haru to take care of Morgana when he’s gone... 

Oh wait... Morgana is no longer with them. Ren swallowed, struggling around an invisible garrote around his throat.

Shit, I cannot even tell Yusuke, he realized suddenly, feeling a sting of sheer panic. If I tell him, he’s going to fold like a card table. He will try to stop me, reason with me, he will get all petrified and I won’t have enough strength to do it when I see those grey eyes staring at me with unbridled love and devotion and absolute, gut-wrenching terror. Fuck. When I get arrested, how will he manage…? Gonna have to ask Ryuji to keep an eye on him, take him out for food sometimes… More importantly, how will _I manage?_ Without him…? 

“I’ll need your answer now, Amamiya-kun.” Sae said, her voice gentler than he would have expected, tearing him out of this rapidly spinning carousel of speculations. “I’d like for you to turn yourself in to the police, of your own accord.”

Ren put his hands into his pockets with a defeated sigh and was just to open his mouth to give her what she wanted, when a familiar voice spoke behind them and the whole world did a rather violent 180.

“There’s no need for that.”

_What?..._

“You…!” Sae gasped, and Ren’s eyes went wide as saucers, because it was no one else than him, it couldn’t be, because no one else moved and swayed that way as he walked, no one else accentuated words that way, no other eyes in the world scowled like _that_. 

Akechi. 

“Wouldn't the perpetrator be a better choice?" Goro Akechi spoke slowly, in his usual self-assured tone of voice, a careful and hesitantly giddy look on his face.

“But… how?!” Ren asked in a breaking voice, abandoning all pretense, staring at him breathless and stupefied.

“To think I’d get to see you so surprised… Honestly, it’s pretty satisfying,” Akechi grinned, and his fake tv-smile morphed for a second into something more true, more sarcastic. 

He didn’t have a chance to place another jab, though, because Ren’s body moved on its own and he was suddenly enveloped in a bone-crushing hug, which erased the smile from his face in an instant. Akechi hissed like a feral cat, struggled against the embrace, which was, however, too tight for him to break; shocked and adrenaline-pumped Amamiya held fast, panting into his shoulder, feeling the lanky limbs and the lean chest pressed to his own, registering the soft tingle of his mousey hair on his cheek and desperately trying to make sure that yes, he is _alive_ , and yes, this is _real_. 

Finally Akechi stopped struggling, catching sight of madame prosecutor’s expression.

“Have you gotten it out of your system yet?” He asked irritably. “You are causing a scene in front of Sae-san.”

“If not for Sae-san, I would punch you in the face,” Ren breathed, still holding him. Akechi sighed in exasperation. “You deserve a proper punch, you… You asshole! It’s been a full month and you…” His voice almost broke, he trailed off, not understanding any of it. “How… When… How?! You are alive!”

“That appears to be the case,” Akechi grimaced. “Now let go of me, won’t you?”

Ren hesitated for a heartbeat, but loosened his grip and with a last swipe down his arms, just to make absolutely sure that he’s material, stepped aside staring at him intently. Akechi moved away from him in an instant, smoothing out his jacket and looking at him with a very weird face.

“Hold on a moment," Sae spoke up suddenly. "Just what exactly do you mean, _the perpetrator_?"

“Exactly as it sounds.” Akechi said, the neutral and deceivingly calm expression returning, a mask settling in seamlessly on his features like a well-worn pair of gloves. “I’ll turn myself in and agree to testify against Shido and his crimes. It should work for you, too.” He glanced towards Ren and his stupefied face.

“I don't believe you. Why would you do that?” Ren asked, not understanding.

“I have no hidden agenda at this point,” Akechi said as if it was enough of an explanation. Ren blinked slowly, unmoving, and Akechi wrinkled his nose at being forced to offer anything else. “If I had to explain myself,” he said, fiddling with his glove, “I’d say it’s simply a personal principle that I repay my debts.” 

Ren held his gaze stubbornly, feeling sudden anger bubble up in him; he stared as if it was supposed to make Akechi open up more or force him to remedy this situation somehow. The honey-eyed bastard just stood there, nonchalantly letting him spiral out of control, suddenly alive, poised as ever, with this unusual glint in his eyes. Was it amusement? Ren was not about to let him have it, but before he could argue any further, Sae stepped forward to break their little staring contest.

“That will benefit the investigation and it is the only thing I care about at this point. I'll assume you will cause me no trouble, Akechi-kun.” She said, beckoning the boy to follow her. He smiled and nodded.

“Of course.” He offered politely, and Sae responded with a nod of her own.

“I’m sorry, Amamiya-kun. You can forget everything I just told you. I’ll take him in myself.” Sae turned to Ren, who promptly realized where this was going; he felt his heartbeat jolt in his chest. _No_!

They both turned to leave, but Ren moved in between them in one fluid movement. He grabbed Akechi’s sleeve and tripped him up, so that he stumbled, lost his balance and gave in to the sudden push towards the pub wall.

“What are you playing at?” Ren said loudly, his voice betraying anger. “You can’t do this. They will put you in for life and that’s gonna be the end of it.” He pinned Akechi down with his stare. “We’re going to do it differently. I’ll turn myself in instead and fulfill our deal, Shido will go to jail, you’ll just lay low.” 

“Out of the question,” Akechi responded, his gloved hands balling into fists. The sudden attack caught him by surprise, which was weird, _again_ ; Ren studied him carefully. Something about him was different. But at least his polite mask was gone now, this infuriating fake face was gone.

“They’re not going to do jack shit to me, I’ll be fine. But you will go to prison,” Ren said angrily, not caring that Sae can hear him. “You'll go to jail, real jail, not juvie, and there is absolutely nothing anyone could gain out of it. Can't you see? My testimony will still end him, it’s gonna be just like you asked. So stay put.”

“This is not up to discussion!” Akechi hissed furiously. He glanced at Sae briefly, but had to shift his full attention back at Ren, who was coming up closer to rudely invade his personal space. Amamiya acted uncharacteristically _angry_. “This is my decision to make, mind you. It’s my job to do and my responsibility. I managed on my own so far and I will take him down myself too!”

“You don’t have to manage on your own anymore, you absolute fucking idiot,” Ren snarled. 

“You will not take that away from me!” 

“I’m not taking anything from you! I’m trying to protect you!”

“That’s funny,” Akechi all but bared his teeth and Ren caught a glimpse of his engine-room frenzy. “I came here with a similar intent. Learn to take a hint and stop hindering me. I told you before, I don’t need your pity!” He hissed and tried to circle Ren to go after Sae. Another shove to his chest made his back hit the wall.

“You came to repay your debts, right? If that’s your idea of retribution,” Ren snapped, “then honestly, you're deluded. You’re not going to fix anything by this. It’s just another escape, you keep doing that, you suicidal maniac, I don’t want this! _I don’t want you to do this,_ ” he said emphatically, boring his eyes into Akechi, crumpling his impeccably pressed button-up where he grabbed him by the tie and shirt collar. 

“Well, too bad, Amamiya-kun,” He hissed back, nostrils flaring. “I’m not here to do what you want, I’m here to do what’s needed.” He pushed Ren away with a furious stare, then took a second to straighten his clothes. “Now for the second time today, _let me go_ ,” he said at Ren, who immediately stepped in to block his way.

“Akechi, don’t do this.”

“Grow up.”

“Akechi-kun!”

He wrenched his elbow free from Ren's grip and came up to Sae in two quick strides. She looked uncertain for a split second, sparing a hesitant glance at Ren, but she came to a decision almost on the spot, starting to walk towards the square. Akechi followed her with a face of complete determination.

“AKECHI!” Ren yelled, feeling completely at loss. No reaction. But he has to stop him, he has to do something, he just has to... But there he was, walking away already, it wouldn’t matter how many times Ren would call after him, yell at him or hit him, the stupid, self-righteous bastard would not budge.

“Akechi-kun...!” he called again, his voice getting pathetic. 

Nothing.

“Goro,” Ren’s voice came out almost softly, on its own volition, without any thought or calculation. Akechi’s head whipped back at the sound of his name, and he looked at Ren for a second as if bewildered; but his step never faltered.

Ren was left alone on the pavement.

It started snowing, in tiny, pristine, freezing flakes of white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone feels like talking fandoms or discussing writing fics, @GreyPigeon4 is my twitter. I know now how to answer DMs, but other than that don't expect me to know how it works :)


	2. Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren confronts Sae about Akechi’s imprisonment during a get-together in LeBlanc on Christmas Day. When it goes sideways, Yusuke tries to comfort him, what goes... majorly sideways too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: A major TRIGGER for discussing capital punishment in Japan.  
> I did some research, and it got to me, so it might get to others as well. And even though all this is easily accessible knowledge from Wikipedia, the rating of the fic is what it is, and we’re all big enough to realize that such a thing exists, if it makes you uncomfortable, and you better assume it MIGHT, skip the second scene. You’re safe afterwards. 
> 
> Angst, panic attack, emotional suffering, hurt/comfort, major ShuKita issues and feeelz, break-up (seemingly) and (apparently) hurt/no comfort. And the depressing aura of Christmas. Ugh. 
> 
> ADDITIONAL NOTES:  
> 1\. Age of maturity in Japan is 20. They are going to partially lower it to 18 in 2022, but alas, not yet, so for now our lovely misfit Akechi is still *not adult*.  
> 2\. It’s never really specified, nor in-game, nor in the animation, if Akechi really killed Wakaba or not. So I’m taking my own stance on it. Similarly with the subway incident; it had extensive media coverage in the P5 Animation, where it is said that the conductor lived, is hospitalized and doesn't remember a thing. No victim numbers are given, so again, my own ideas about it.  
> Enjoy!

**~*~**

With all of the merriment that ruled over Leblanc on Christmas Day, among the laughter of friends, good-hearted teasing of Sojiro and delicious smells of food and treats they have shared among themselves, with all of the excitement over finally being able to prosecute Shido and the absolute _high_ over achieving the impossible and saving the world from a fucking evil, actual, real _God of Control_ , everything should have been perfect. 

Everything should have made Ren happy. He should appreciate it all, and there was so much; there was absolutely everything to be thankful for, to be happy about, to be proud of. 

He wasn’t.

Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the toll of fighting so hard, pushing himself past the limit, fusing such a powerful persona and draining himself so badly to defeat the enemy. Maybe it was simply mental and physical exhaustion.

Maybe it was all of those things combined. Did it really matter? 

What mattered was that Ren Amamiya was not himself; he didn’t feel like himself, he wasn’t acting like himself. The whole Christmas Day celebration party only served to agitate and unnerve him. It wasn’t fair to the Thieves, he knew, it wasn’t fair to Futaba and Sojiro, it completely wasn’t fair to Yusuke. Ren hated to be a nuisance. Instead of acting like a wet blanket, he would much rather just excuse himself, go upstairs and catch some more sleep - or pretend to, at least - but he knew he simply cannot do that as of yet. He was waiting for Sae. 

Ann tried to pull him into a conversation. Ryuji threw an arm around his neck at some point, crying from happiness. Futaba and Morgana wanted to sit next to him all the time, craving his attention. Yusuke slipped a hand into his own later in the evening, in a rare display of public affection, raising his warm, thankful, loving grey eyes at him. 

Ren almost didn’t pay attention and he felt horrible about it, doing his best to hide behind his glasses and a neutral, quiet demeanor that has got him through a full year of anguish alright. Somehow he felt that today of all days his mask is simply not enough.

When Sae finally came, he got up first to greet her. Offering to make her a cup of coffee, he maneuvered her to the bar and pretending to be busy with starting the grinder and checking the drippers, he made sure the group is busy and not really interested in the details of their conversation. 

“So how is he?” Ren asked with no preamble. Sae shot him a look.

“You are talking about Akechi-kun, obviously.”

“Who else? Please, Sae, I need to know. Has he been interrogated already?” Ren asked, and something on his face made Nijima reconsider a lecture and just indulge him with answers. She sighed, putting her elbows on the counter and watching Ren preparing her coffee with a stern face.

“Yes; I have questioned him myself first thing this morning.” She said. “But it was only a preliminary interrogation. More questioning will follow, there are other detectives who have yet to talk to him and the second prosecutor. So far, he confessed to being a perpetrator in the mental shutdown cases, as well as working for Shido in capacity of extortion, defamation, extending threats, fraud and espionage. He also admitted that the solving of a good number of his detective cases was, in fact, staged.”

“Were the policemen civil with him?” Ren asked in a weird tone, his eyes focused on a filter he was arranging with determined precision which was rather uncalled for. 

Sae pursed her lips tight. She knew that the memory of the underground interrogation facility will probably stay with Ren forever. 

“No one laid a hand on him.” She said. 

“That’s a relief.” Ren braced himself on the bar. “Is he in prison already? I mean, where is he…”

“He’s held in custody,” Sae interrupted. “I cannot disclose the information where.”

“Could I see him?” 

Sae was visibly taken aback by this question.

“Forgive me for saying it so crudely, but get a room, you two! What is this thing between you and him?” 

Ren didn’t answer; he winced and turned away. He suddenly caught a glimpse of Yusuke from a corner of his eye; he abandoned his argument with Futaba and was staring at them with a dumbfounded expression. Sae sighed, shaking her head. 

“Look, Amamiya-kun. The whole case has to proceed in an orderly manner. We need to make sure everything is done within procedural frames and with all due diligence, if we want to properly pin Shido down. So that his lawyers cannot use misconduct as a defense tactic. Akechi-kun knows this and is cooperating. You don’t need to worry about the outcome of the prosecution, I will personally make sure it is successful, nor should you worry for Akechi-kun. He has brought it onto himself, after all, and he did turn himself in out of his own free will. He knows what he’s doing. And Amamiya-kun, it’s Christmas... You are entitled to a little celebration, are you not?”

“You didn’t answer my question, Sae-san.” 

She gave him a cold look. 

“No, you cannot see him right now and I am not willing to make exceptions to the rules on this matter.”

“I understand.” Ren sighed, not looking at her. “Does he have a right to the attorney?”

“Everybody has a right to the attorney.”

“Has he asked for one?” 

“Not yet.” Sae took a sip of her coffee and complimented him with a nod. “He is cooperating for now, disclosing all important information, and the charges for him have not yet been specified, as there is a lot to this story and his involvement exceeds the previously established ramifications. Amamiya-kun, it’s been only one day. It’s complicated. But you have to let me handle this.”

“Right, but what do you mean, exceed the ramifications?” Ren put a hand to his forehead, rubbing nervously.

“The Metaverse crimes will be hard to prove. The mere existence of it is going to be difficult to establish, especially now that it has been erased. But we both know that he is guilty. He needs to answer for that, even if the crime in question doesn’t have a name in the codex yet.” 

“That’s exactly why he needs a good lawyer. One clever enough, one that would grasp it, believe his story. If you are not going to let me see him, at least tell him so yourself. He needs someone in his corner, Sae.” 

“Does it have to be you, though?” Nijima asked, not bothering to hide her surprise.

“It’s not like he has anybody else,” Ren hissed. “Do you know his story? What had happened to him? What Shido did to his mother? How he was passed from foster home to foster home, from institution to institution, as if he was a plaything to try out and discard when he was found too broken to be a good boy you can show off to the neighbours, too difficult to make a pleasant article on a parenting blog. He doesn’t have anyone, Sae-san,” Ren leaned to her over the counter. “He was alone, all alone, all this time.”

Ren found some sort of weird, dark satisfaction, seeing Sae suddenly uneasy. She must have run a check on Akechi’s disturbed past. She knew. Ren crossed his arms and let her squirm, pinning her to the bar stool with his eyes.

“I have seen his files. Indeed, his childhood was… less than ideal.” She admitted finally, turning the coffee cup in her fingers. 

“You know what’s less than ideal, Sae-san?” Ren asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “This look in your eyes. Not vicious enough to use him as a tool in your case, but not compassionate enough to offer him a real way out.”

Sae looked shocked for a moment; then her jaw clenched, suddenly angry.

The silence between them stretched. 

“It should have been me.” Ren said finally, resigning himself to wash some dishes in the sink. “You wouldn’t have a dilemma. They wouldn’t do anything to me, and still pin Shido down. But like this, it’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”

“Well, he wouldn't hear it.” Sae grimaced. “You cannot save someone against their will.” 

Ren scoffed and gave her a brief, incredulous look. Can’t he? It used to turn out great so far.

Sae seemed to catch on that, as she smirked briefly and sighed, reaching for her bag. she startled him visibly.

“Just one more thing, Sae-san. I’m sorry to steal so much of your time, but... please, indulge me.” Ren’s eyes were pleading, having all but lost the edge from before. Sae relented.

“Ask away.”

Ren hesitated briefly, took a deep breath to form his question as carefully as possible.

“From a prosecutor’s point of view… what are we looking at, sentence-wise? I understand the extenuating circumstances will be taken under consideration.”

“Extenuating circumstances?” Sae repeated, blinking hard.

“Yes. There are many.”

“Such as?”

“Such as, he is helping the state to prosecute the real, major criminal. You said yourself, he started talking. Or that he is still underage. That his state guardians, who have released him of their own free will, and the institution he was in last had offered him no help nor guidance and just left him to live on his own. There was misconduct there, for sure. He was manipulated into and later on straight-up forced to continue committing the crimes in question, lest Shido and his men would just dispose of him. Maybe he qualifies for witness protection programme. Or maybe, if all of that doesn’t convince you, consider that he is mentally unstable - borderline or psychotic, I don’t know, but surely depressed to the point of needing medical attention. Highly functioning, yes, but… still. I can see that, and I am no doctor. So Sae-san, please tell me realistically: with all this said, and with all he can do to help the police, what is... the worst punishment that he can get?”

Sae left the bag where it was and relaxed back into the seat. She wouldn’t answer for a long, long while.

“Amamiya-kun. You have to understand, the facts are undeniable. He is a murderer.” She gave him a telling look. “He has admitted to causing several mental shutdowns, and in doing so effectively assassinated president Okumura, principal Kobayakawa, the SIU director and several other individuals who were targeted by politicians indebted to Shido. At least a dozen psychotic breakdowns, including the subway accident, where about a hundred people got severely injured, three of whom died as a result. If I understand correctly, and I think I do, he _shot you in the head_ with cold blood.” 

“Attempted to.”

“Semantics.” Sae shrugged. “In any case, it is one hell of a track record. Listen to me carefully: _if_ we will be able to prove the existence of the Metaverse, there is only one possible sentence that the prosecutor’s office will call for. Even if he is a minor.”

Ren froze, desperately wringing his brain for any sort of answer, argument, objection, or at least something to stall the inevitable. To his utter dismay, he only came up with the name of one more victim.

“You forgot Wakaba Isshiki,” he muttered in a voice which was not his own, looking at his feet.

“I didn’t forget. It’s just he didn’t kill her.” Ren’s eyes shot up immediately. “He only assisted. Enabled a cognitive psience researcher to enter the Metaverse with him; helped to navigate him through it, find Wakaba and obtain the research. He was fifteen at the time, he didn’t pull the trigger.” Sae explained. “Most probably Shido did not trust him to carry out the mission on his own. But after that experience, when he saw first hand what happens to someone whose Metaverse counterpart has been killed, he had no issue with carrying on. How’s that for an extenuating circumstance?”

Ren was speechless. He didn’t know whether to be happy that Akechi didn’t kill Futaba’s mom or furious that Akechi had never mentioned it, even to defend himself back then on the ship. In fact, he didn’t know what to feel. His wet hands clenched on the edge of the sink as he put all his weight on it to support himself, the shiny metal cool and clammy underneath his fingers.

“Just say it, Sae-san.”

“He might be facing capital punishment.”

An image of Akechi, with unkempt, mousey hair and a blank look on his face, clad in a grayish overall and standing in front of a noose flashed in front of Ren’s eyes. His hand slipped on the sink and his body suddenly fell forward; he managed to avoid smashing his forehead on the countertop, but his hand landed inside of the sink and smashed the porcelain saucer to bits. 

“What’s the ruckus?” Sojiro called from the kitchen, emerging from behind the corner with a towel thrown over his shoulder. “You cut your hand! Sheesh, kid, what happened?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing, I’m fine,” Ren muttered irritably, wrapping a kitchen rag around his palm quickly. Sae was standing up with her hands extended, as if she wanted to catch him before he could fall; his friends, alarmed by the noise, turned to them, worry written all over their faces.

“Let me take a look at that,” Sojiro said grumpily, producing a first aid kit from a high shelf. 

“It’s fine, it’s just a scratch… I can do it myself. I’m sorry, Sojiro, but I have to talk to Sae…”

“There’s nothing more to talk about at this point,” Sae said in a final tone, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. She squeezed it tightly. “I hear you, Amamiya-kun. I hear you. I will do all within my power to soften his sentence. Not for him; I’ll do it for you. So just calm down and let me do the work, okay? If you try to meddle, the Phantom Thieves will be involved and it will only get more complicated, both for you, for me and for your friends. So you just get some rest now. It’s time for us, adults, to take some responsibility and try to fix this mess.”

He wanted to tell her more, he wanted to stop her from leaving, he desperately wanted to make her understand that he has already watched Akechi die once, powerless to stop it or come to terms with it, and he cannot, absolutely cannot endure the same thing twice. That he will go mad. That it’s wrong and unjust. No words came forward, though, only a raspy breath as he looked at her, and she gave his shoulder one more reassuring squeeze and turned away to Makoto.

“I’ll be going home now,” she told her sister, “I wish everyone Merry Christmas. See you all around,” she waved her hand and a small choir of voices extended good wishes and goodbyes. She was just about to leave, when Ren finally managed to overcome his clenched throat.

“Sae,” he choked out. “Please.” Just one word. That’s all he had the air for.

“I’ll do everything I can,” she repeated, looking at him with a weird mix of guilt and pity. “Just get some rest, Ren-kun.”

And with that, she left. A sting of panic pierced Ren through as he watched the door close; _‘She didn’t take me seriously,’_ he thought, _‘she thinks I’m just a traumatized kid unable to see the truth for what it is, she thinks I’m throwing a fit.’_

“Ren?” a familiar, kind voice on his right. “Ren, give me your hand.” Yusuke.

Not looking, he just handed him his bloodied palm and sat heavily on the kitchen stool. 

**~*~**

Not long after, in the wake of Ren’s mood and his complete exhaustion, everybody excused themselves and Sojiro ordered him upstairs to catch some sleep while he would close up shop. Ren got a couple of worried looks, polite inquiries about his sleep last night, some affectionate hugs. Ren appreciated it, but wished it would just end.

Finally only Morgana and Yusuke stayed, but the wise, kind cat just slipped out through the window, allowing the boys to catch some one-on-one time. Ren mouthed a quiet ‘thank you’ as he was jumping down on the tin roof, still looking over his furry shoulder with worry written all over the cute face.

Ren flopped on the creaky bed and covered his eyes with a forearm. Yusuke kept his distance, sitting far away from him, on the ancient, moth-eaten, mustard-yellow couch.

They just stayed like this, engulfed in uncomfortable silence.

“Thanks… for the hand.” Ren forced himself to say. Yusuke just nodded.

Silence.

“Are you sure you want me to stay?” The blue-haired artist asked after a longish while. 

“Yes. You can always stay.” Ren said, not lifting his arm off of his face.

Silence again. 

God, Ren was so tired. 

“Just ask me.” He said, completely resigned.

Yusuke bit his lip; he didn’t move for a full minute, but finally shifted forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Before, with Nijima-san… you were talking about Akechi-kun.” Statement, not a question. “What did she say that upset you so?”

“She told me he will probably be facing death penalty.” Ren blurted out without as much as a single thought. 

Yusuke went pale, staring at him from across the room.

“But… he is a minor. And he had… he was…” Yusuke trailed off, his jaw going stiff and hands clenching on his knees. “That’s... harsh.”

“ _Harsh_?” Ren scoffed. “Euphemism of the year. It’s fucked up. It’s completely wrong. I didn’t… I didn’t fight for _this_ to happen. It’s not my justice. It’s not right. It shouldn’t be that way.”

He got up suddenly, started pacing in the room. Yusuke noticed he was sweating, clenching his hands in fists compulsively, fiddling with the bandage on his left hand. 

“Ren, calm down,” Yusuke said gently. “Nothing is determined as of yet. Makoto spoke to us as well, and from what she said we can safely assume…”

“You know what they do to you once you’re sentenced to death?” Ren asked suddenly, stopping in the middle of the room, ignoring his words completely. Yusuke stared at him, a bit shocked; he shook his head no.

“They lock you up in solitary confinement, not in a regular prison with normal inmates, no, they separate you from other people, and you have next to no rights. It’s like you weren’t a person anymore. Only family and an attorney can visit, sporadically, and with close supervision.” 

Ren swallowed thickly, his hands started to shake. Yusuke got up from the couch and in two strides was standing next to him.

“They let you go for a short walk twice a fucking week, and if you exercise in your cell, they beat the shit out of you. You are allowed to keep three books. And that’s it. Three books.” Ren laughed suddenly, a manic glint in his eye. “I figured that I would, you know, settle for the titles with the largest word count, if it were me. Or a fucking encyclopedia.”

“Ren, but what are you saying? You wouldn’t have been…”

“But I’ve got a criminal record, don’t I? I was interested about it. I’ve done some reading.” Ren moved sharply away from Yusuke, who wanted to embrace him; the artist stopped with his hands mid-air. 

Ren raked a hand through his hair in a desperate, pitiful gesture. His eyes were sunken, starting to tear up.

“And this goes on until you exhaust all possibilities for appeal. Usually five to seven years. Five to seven years on death row, unable to see anybody, unable to hear a comforting human voice, slowly going mad in your own head. Only four white walls around you. And then,” he swallowed again, his voice cracking awfully, “on the morning they are about to do it, they just tell you.” His hands fell down his sides. 

“They just show up and announce: that’s it, that’s your last sunrise. You choose your last meal. You stand in front of the noose. And they do it.” Tears welled up in his eyes as if on cue and fell straight down Ren’s cheeks, leaving two parallel glistening trails. “Long drop. Your neck snaps. Like so.” 

He snapped his fingers. Yusuke felt panic raise in him; he didn’t know what to do, Ren was acting like he was having a breakdown. His eyes were glassy, unseeing, boring into one spot in the faraway distance. He almost wasn’t blinking, the tears just fell freely.

“And that’s it. They only tell the family after it is done,” Ren suddenly sobbed, air catching in his lungs with a loud, terrified hiccup. “There is nothing you can do, there is nothing you can say, there is… there is no goodbye. _There is no goodbye._ ”

His knees gave up under him. Yusuke caught him under the armpits, lowered him down on the floor; Ren kept repeating this one phrase, ‘there is no goodbye’, with lips that turned stiff and blue and dry. Yusuke desperately wanted to hug him, but Ren held his shirt with stiff, outstretched hands and locked his arms, trying to push him away. 

Ren tried to catch a breath, but he couldn’t; tears kept falling unchecked, and finally, when Yusuke forced his way through his struggling and held him close, he just stopped resisting altogether. He let his head fall limply on Yusuke’s shoulder and cried, loud and without restraint, clutching at his boyfriend’s back with bruising force. He wailed inconsolably, and Yusuke held him through it.

Sojiro appeared quietly on the stairs, his eyes questioning and concerned. Yusuke gave him a small nod, reassuring that he is here and will not let Ren go, stroking the other boy’s head in a steady, comforting rhythm. The man sighed and retreated tactfully with quiet, sullen steps.

They sat like that on the floor, locked in a tight embrace, not talking; just staying together, afraid that if they let go of each other something terrible will happen. 

Ren cried until he had no more tears left whatsoever, and even then dry sobs wracked his frame long into the next hour.

**~*~**

“It will not come to this.” Yusuke said finally, having gathered enough counterarguments and consolations in his head to talk. “Proving that the Metaverse exists is... next to impossible. It’s gone. With it, the method and the possibility of committing the crimes in question is gone as well. They will not be able to prove Akechi really did it.” 

Ren stirred on Yusuke’s shoulder; his sore and dry throat clenched painfully over the words he tried to say.

“What about the scientists who described the Metaverse? What about Wakaba’s research?” He rasped out finally, slowly lifting his sore head from Yusuke’s shoulder. “Shido’s goons saw it. His lab rats saw it. If enough testimonies match up, they will have to accept it as the truth.”

“Or they won’t.” Yusuke said calmly. “It’s not a common knowledge, and revealing such an information to the public - that there exists a world of dreams and distorted desires, where you can enter and pull stunts that can only be described as magic - that would… destabilize the whole country. Cause panic. It’s comparable to the situation of an American president suddenly revealing that there really was a UFO in Roswell and the Earth is under threat by the aliens. People would go crazy.” 

Ren was silent for a while.

“Sae is of a different opinion.” He said eventually. “She is adamant that she will prove it. And bury Shido with this.”

Yusuke grimaced. 

“Is she? Because Makoto says otherwise.”

Ren started paying attention.

“Sae-san is still mad at Akechi. She is perfectly capable and professional about everything she does, but… she’s angry, because he played her too. It clouds her judgement. I really can’t see how her case is going to hold in court.” Yusuke said calmly, rubbing up and down Ren’s arm.

“But he confessed, he admitted to…”

“And he told them what?” Yusuke interrupted. “That he was running around the subway, cosplaying Prince Charming, with a plastic saber and a ray gun, shooting people?”

Ren let his opened mouth fall shut. He stared at Yusuke for a while.

“I… I don’t know what he told them.” 

“My point exactly. He is not stupid, and he probably doesn’t want to die, either. Sae-san knows the truth, so they talked business; she had a Palace herself, she simply can’t deny it and it would be pointless to lie to her. But the rest of the detectives, prosecutors, the police - they don’t know anything about it and it would sound like a madman’s tale to them. They are not going to harm their careers or make a laughing stock out of themselves, prosecuting a high school boy on charge of being a vigilante in a magic dimension.” Yusuke shook his head. “In fact, I have a hard time believing Sae herself would go through with it on such a loose basis. It is a career suicide... Unless she plans to quit altogether.”

Ren bit his lip, thinking.

“So why tell her at all? If she can’t do anything with it.”

Yusuke shook his head.

“Why does he do any of the things he does? To irate her, probably. Out of spite.” Yusuke shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Ren started to calm down. He disentangled himself a bit from Yusuke’s embrace and gave him a long, apologetic look.

“There is also another thing you should take under consideration,” Yusuke said gently. “There probably are people who don’t want him talking about anything he knows, concerning the Metaverse or not. So now that the word is out that he is alive, he is probably safer where he is, in police custody, than out there in the open. He is, at least, protected.”

Ren sighed, nodding. He was beginning to feel stupid, now that the tension was gradually leaving his body and reason started to settle his mind. He could feel sharp pins of a massive headache forming in his skull, too.

“Take a deep breath, Ren.” Yusuke squeezed his hands, which were laying limply on his lap. “Sae-san couldn’t or didn’t want to tell you anything, because it would interfere with the investigation. Also, she probably wanted you to lay low for a while… Makoto said Sae wasn’t very appreciative of how emotional you got yesterday, so she wanted to make sure you don’t try anything stupid, like busting him out of his cell or something.” Yusuke brushed some tousled strands away from Ren’s face, wiped at his cheek gently. 

“I don’t even know where he is held.” 

“Ren. You need to calm down. Both Shido and Akechi will only realistically answer for whatever crimes they had committed in the real life, in which case Shido is still going down, as he ordered people disposed of by the Yakuza ‘cleaner’, and there are witnesses to it. Key witness being held in custody, actually. And as for Akechi-kun…” he hesitated. “We don’t know yet. But whatever he was doing, he was not murdering people just like that in the open. Except, of course, for you.” 

Yusuke’s eyes hardened for a second, but he apparently decided to drop the matter, reaching to hug Ren again and prop him against his chest.

“You know how you’re always there for me whenever I get too lost in my own head?” Yusuke asked gently after a brief pause. “Whenever I had gone to hysterics, or whenever I would hurt myself because it was all too much…? Each time it happened, you would always be there, looking at it all objectively, telling me: ‘Yusuke, it’s not really what you think it is. You are overreacting, you need to slow down.’ Ren, look at me.” The artist brushed the shell of Ren’s ear in a comforting caress. 

Ren looked up at the waiting, sad face.

“You know why I’m telling you this?”

“I suppose,” Ren sighed, sniffling and rubbing at his red, irritated eyes. “And... I think you may be right.”

“I think you had a panic attack. A powerful one.” Yusuke hugged him closer. “You are exhausted, the events of yesterday have worn you out completely, and before you even managed to recover, you took another powerful emotional hit. You find that Akechi is suddenly alive, and a minute later you are convinced that he is under threat of dying again. It’s too much, too much strain to take for anybody, and you didn’t exactly have a carefree year either.” The artist sighed sadly. “Don’t think about it for now. We will keep a close eye on the situation. We will figure it out. We will help him, to the best of our ability, you’ll see; as opposed as we are to him, none of us wants to see him die.” Ren gave Yusuke a thankful look; he wasn’t sure about it before, but hearing it from Fox, it must have been the truth.

“But for now… just focus on yourself, I beg you.”

Yusuke’s hands were steady and considerate as he cradled him, his eyes two warm pools of silver. Compassionate, understanding. And very, very sad. Ren couldn’t help but notice this sadness, practically pouring out of him, seeping from his every breath and every pore of his skin. 

“I think you should have an early night.” Yusuke said quietly. “Do you still have some of the sleeping aid Takemi gave you?” 

Ren reached to touch Yusuke’s face with one hand. He turned him towards himself.

“Something’s wrong.” He said quietly. “There is something that I did and it upset you, but you don’t want to tell me.”

Yusuke did not admit it, but he sighed heavily and looked away in a very telling way. He didn’t move much, continuing to provide support, but he was unable to meet Ren’s eye. 

A pair of desperate hands fisted in his shirt again.

“Yusuke… Please tell me. I can’t take any more surprises, sudden changes that I cannot do anything about and things left unsaid. I feel like I’m going mad. Just tell me.”

Yusuke shook his head.

“Ren... it’s really not the time. You don’t need this now, and I don’t want to talk about this. I only want to tuck you in and make sure you’re alright, like you did for me countless times before.”

“But Yusuke, tell me. You have to tell me. I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Now you’re just making me agitated.”

“Ren, please…”

“No. Tell me! And be honest about it.” Ren demanded, sitting up abruptly. Yusuke stared back, hard.

“Only if you’ll answer me honestly, too.” 

“I promise.”

He let Ren go. They knelt in front of each other.

They stared for a couple of seconds, the tension palpable in the air. It was as if the space between them was full of static, and suddenly Ren knew, he was terrified and he knew exactly what Yusuke is going to say.

“Are you in love with Goro Akechi?”

Two blinks. Two heartbeats.

“I don’t know.” Ren said. “I might be.” 

For a second there, Ren thought Yusuke is going to slap him; then he thought he will start crying. His hands shook, his lips and chin quivered as he sat there, unmoving, never letting his eyes leave Ren’s face. This perfect stillness, apart from this terrible, barely perceptible tremble and determined blinking, was new. Ren has never seen it before. He felt like shit.

“Explain.”

Ren stared into the distance, desperate to look at anything but the face of his sweet, vulnerable, brittle artist, whom he genuinely loved, and whose heart he was about to smash to tiny little pieces.

“We’re the same.” He said slowly. “Him and me. Two sides of the same coin. Practically opposites, we differ so much if you just take a brief look; but in fact, he is me. He is what I would have become if I didn’t have people around me, who extended a helpful hand in a correct moment. If I didn’t have a shred of decency and help from my extended family. If I didn’t experience love. He is me, if I had been stripped of everything, if I was just reduced to the same thing that he had, which is nothing. Instead of a champion of justice you would have a fallen, mistaken, broken and a very angry individual. And… Akechi gets that. He understands me… he mirrors me. He sees through me, forces me to accept the truth, even if I don’t want to, just like I see what he is, what’s underneath his fake façade he put there because he’s too scared of getting hurt again. And as a rival, he has put up a valiant fight... He is… my equal.” 

Ren sighed deeply; he had no way of knowing if any of this makes sense to Yusuke. The boy was still like a statue. 

“You probably don’t get this, because there is no evil in you. You would sooner take your own life to escape it all than lift a hand at Madarame, if it went on further without intervention. But... I’m not like you. I’m not as pure, and not as innocent. I have anger. And the will to act upon it. I have to acknowledge it. And with Akechi… I never had to restrain myself, pretend there is no evil side to me, that I’m not furious at everything that happened or bitter about it. On the contrary, he wanted me to show it, it felt weird to him that I wouldn’t, he kept pushing me, challenging me, making me question things, kept instigating just to see how I will react... Even if he was planning to betray us and spent time with us just because he had to, his interest in me was real. He wanted to know the true me. The ugly me, whom no one wants nor cares about.”

Yusuke said nothing, just the frown on his forehead deepened. Ren kept going, then.

“That’s why… I cannot find it in myself to hate him, you see. And when he told me he hates me, that he is mad at me for being able to overcome everything thrown my way, when he told it to my face - I was shocked, because... I looked up to him, I admired him. But to hear him say it like that, straight to my face, ‘I hate you’... I recognize it now. It was heartbreak.”

They were sitting beside each other for a longish while. Ren felt like there was just one more thing left to say.

“I do not know if that’s love. I never felt something like this. It’s not like with you. From the moment I met you, I knew how I feel about you and what it is. I was certain. But this? I have no idea, there are too many layers to it. There certainly is a connection. I mean… we are both Wildcards. We were chosen and pitted against each other, Yaldabaoth practically told me so. There is bound to be a connection. And, whatever it is… it is strong. Back there… on that ship…” Ren’s voice faltered for a second. “I only ever wanted to save him. And I couldn’t. I still can’t.”

Ren closed his eyes. He felt like punching something.

“And he told me that there had been a chance, too… ‘If we had only met a couple of years earlier’, that’s what he told me… Before all this happened, before he went too far…”

No more words came forth in a long while. 

Yusuke took a deep breath, put a hand to his forehead.

“Ren… I think I grasp this a bit better now, but… you have to tell me, is it only platonic or…” He dared to take a look at his boyfriend, who immediately escaped with his eyes. “Are you physically attracted to him as well?”

Ren did not answer; which was an answer in itself. 

Yusuke sobbed suddenly.

“But why?! He tried to murder you! He shot you in the head!” He cried out.

“He never wanted to kill me,” Ren said quietly, eyes on the floor. “On multiple occasions he dropped hints as we spoke, he warned me, wanted to force me to back off, he pulled a real gun on me in Mementos. He even made me an offer to join him, to abandon Phantom Thieves and, by extension, live. The whole shooting thing…” Ren hesitated, bit his lip. “It was yet another challenge. It was like... playing russian roulette. Exactly like that.”

Ren raked a hand through his hair again.

“I was never afraid of _him_ , per se... of dying, yes, but not of him… I knew he was hiding something from the start. That he is two-faced. I wanted to know his reasons, why is he doing all that… I suspected there is a story underneath. And as for the whole ruse - I agreed to go through with it. It was more of a mind game, really; and I won, not even because I lived, but because I finally made him show me who he really is; I could see him…” Ren’s eyes got distant, as if he was reliving the memory of sitting in the interrogation room, knowing that in the same spot in front of him, in the Metaverse, stands Akechi with a barrel of a gun pointed at his forehead. “He stopped hiding all of his hurt, all of his anger, his malice... his _ugliness_ … he revealed it all, stood true in front of me, and it was almost… intimate.” He said.

Yusuke’s eyes were wide. He gave out a weird, choking sound; Ren glanced at him and noticed that there were tears on his cheeks.

“You… you think that the act of killing, this last moment between the murderer and the victim… is _intimate_?” He asked, visibly shaken. “That this is an act of intimacy? Because I believe this is nothing short of rape,” he blurted out. 

“No, you don’t understand, I didn't say…”

“Excuse me, but do I have to attempt to assassinate you to keep your interest?” Yusuke asked, bringing his shaking hand to his face and angrily wiping at the stubborn tears. “Am I too normal for you now, too stable? Are you _bored with me_?” 

“Yusuke, no! It’s not what I said!”

“But it’s what you do!” The artist pushed Ren’s hands away, scrambling to his feet. “ _This_ is your very own coping mechanism! You find a person, who goes through all sorts of problems and crises, and you focus all your attention to them, helping them overcome it, because it’s easier to find solutions for someone else and easier to dictate what others should do, than to remedy your own problems!” 

Yusuke stood up and took a couple of steps back, almost tripping over. 

“When it gets hard for you, you just find another person to work on! You did it with all of us, can’t you see?!” He asked, his voice shaking. “You’re collecting strays! And we follow you with blind loyalty and thankfulness! I think I understand it now, you’re obsessed with Akechi because he is the one person you couldn’t help! He wouldn’t _allow you_ to help him! On the contrary, he kept defying you, forced _you_ to introspect, _he_ was the one working _you_! And me?! I was just…” 

Yusuke laughed, and Ren recognized this humourless, crazy laughter from the desperate moment in Madarame’s palace, when Yusuke learned the truth about his mother. “I am your inferior, I was just a pastime… Your little art project. You saved me, you made me love you, you made me give myself to you over and over again and thank you for it afterwards! But, Ren - did you really love me? Was it even real? Can you tell me that much, was any of it even real?!”

“Yusuke! It was, it IS real! I DO love you! I’m telling you I don’t understand what is happening to me!” 

“NO!” Yusuke yelled suddenly, lifting both hands in front of him, stopping Ren before he got up from his knees. He froze, because Yusuke never, ever yelled; his back hunched, eyes went wide and he was panting almost painfully, trying to calm his frantic heartbeat. Ren had a fleeting thought that he looked exactly like an ensnared fox would.

After just a second of deafening silence, Yusuke collected himself enough to stand straight and lower his hands. He let them dangle on his sides, all will to fight leaving him.

“No.” He said in a much calmer tone. “You do know precisely what is going on, just a minute ago you were honest enough about it with me, so you should stop lying to yourself too. I am… I’m glad you told me. But you have to forgive me, I... cannot be around you right now. I wish to be alone now. So I better go.” 

“Oh my God, Yusuke, no, don’t go! Please don’t leave like that!” Ren panicked; he wanted to block the staircase with his own body to stop him, but before he managed to get up from the floor Yusuke was already running downstairs. 

Ren threw himself to follow, calling Yusuke’s name in a frantic litany; the artist passed a completely shocked Sojiro without a glance, almost toppled over the wooden hanger when grabbing his green winter coat and burst outside, onto the snowy and very cold evening. The door banged on the wall, leaving a dent and chipping the paint. Ren ran out behind him, almost breaking a leg on the stairs and slipping on the freshly mopped floor; the door banged for the second time, the ‘open’ sign made a salto in the air before flipping on the ground.

On the street in front of the cafe Ren grabbed Yusuke’s arm, pleading him to stop. 

“Don’t go, please! It’s real, it’s real, I love you, I have always loved you, this has never changed,” he cried, trying to make the artist turn and look at him, but Yusuke couldn’t even see through the tears. He wrenched his arm free and ran down the alley, holding his coat in his arms in front of him. 

“But it’s REAL!” Ren yelled after him. The silhouette in white Kosei shirt disappeared behind the corner, never looking back.

Ren stood there, ankle deep in snow, with his socks soaking through, staring at the brick fence at the street corner where Yusuke vanished. Time has stopped and everything around him ground to a sudden halt.

The snow just kept falling.

And soon after, no one knew what is ‘real’ anymore. 


	3. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sōjirō watches Ren adjust to his new normal, having no idea what is exactly happening and how to put a stop to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. We’re jumping in time a bit. Stay vigilant.  
> 2\. Japanese law about names and surnames is pretty strict from what I read and it wouldn’t be allowed to change one’s surname as easily, but I decided to put it in this chapter, because a) it’s just fanfiction let’s enjoy it a little, and b) it’s just for the sake of a joke and some feel-good domesticity, not plot, so no harm done.
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> Angst, emotional suffering, mourning, post-break up, implied past abuse (physical and sexual), bullying, child neglect, and a really pathetic cliffhanger.

**~*~**

Sōjirō has never been more concerned about Ren than on the late afternoon of of 13th of February, just after he has picked him up from the pavement in front of the concrete enclosure of the juvenile hall. 

Even at the very beginning, when he had no idea what kind of delinquent kid he was supposed to house, when he expected only insolence and trouble and maybe substance abuse, even then - he kind of knew under his skin that he will manage him, that he will bring him up, turn him around. 

But now Sōjirō was no longer so sure. Thin like a stick, with his face longer and cheeks hollow, most of his toned muscles simply gone, empty-eyed and _silent_ , Ren sat in his car without a single smile. Sōjirō deeply regretted his joke about not wanting to come and pick him up. During their way home, stuck in a massive traffic jam and running late, Ren spoke a total of maybe ten words.

When they arrived at LeBlanc, all of the Thieves were already there, giddy to welcome him; Ren managed a smile, but it looked more like a crack on his face. He embraced Futaba, who ran to greet him and almost threw herself at his neck; he reciprocated a complicated handshake from the obnoxious blonde guy. But that was it, the rest of them was met with a short nod and a clipped ‘hello’. He was withdrawn even with the art kid - or maybe, especially with the art kid, with whom normally he would be very affectionate, in private or not. Sōjirō was uneasy about all that.

Everyone started to talk about how they went about busting Ren out of juvie: how a politician called Yoshida helped to advocate his case, how Ohya the journalist sniffed around for proof of character in Ren’s hometown, how his homeroom teacher convinced all of the faculty to officially back up his non-problematic conduct and praise his academic accomplishments. How Takemi announced that the development of her groundbreaking medicine was only possible thanks to Ren’s cooperation in a clinical trial. Even a former Yakuza guy pulled some strings, Sōjirō found out. 

But even if the main reason that Ren was a free man clear of charges was the blue-haired artist, the kid in question has kept his distance, standing far away from the tight crowd of friends that surrounded their thief leader, not saying a thing. 

Back in January, a famous art curator and the director of the Japanese Art Support Foundation Akiko Kawanabe gave a widely covered press conference. He presented Yusuke Kitagawa, a former student of Madarame, as his youngest and most promising protégé. It even made its way to eight o’clock news, because of the sensational news about Madarame’s abuse of his students, which had previously been kept silent out of consideration for privacy and respect for the victims. 

Yusuke came out, though - speaking loudly of his day-to-day hardships, of continuing starvation, humiliation, physical and sexual abuse; he had pointed Ren Amamiya as his closest friend and a sole reason that prevented him from self-harm or worse just after Madarame's imprisonment. Falling on his knees and going face down in a respectful bow in front of the cameras, he pleaded for the only person who could clear Ren’s name to show compassion and step forward, amending her testimony about the alleged assault she had witnessed. 

The paparazzi went absolutely bonkers, the Internet and social media exploded with a new hashtag and a booming following, due to Kawanabe’s connections all of the papers - from the respected periodicals to the red top tabloids - featured this story, which has also shed even more light on Shido’s case, both due to Ren’s involvement and Maradame’s financial support in Shido’s election campaign.

And the woman in question has indeed appeared, moved by Yusuke’s plea and bow.

“You saved me,” Ren said quietly towards the artist, who only curled in himself tighter, offering a polite ‘don’t mention it’. Sōjirō could not believe it. They had been inseparable before. By all means, they should still be. He could not recall any argument they might have had, he could not remember any break-up. 

What Yusuke did required courage; not only has he signed the proverbial deal with the devil and pledged a big portion of his future to Kawanabe’s whim, but has also become a center of attention he has never wanted, an object of stalking, teasing and gossip, some of which portrayed him in a less-than-favourable manner. People on social media have not only expressed their support, after all. Among typical disinterest, trolling and a sea of violently biased opinions there were also those who either claimed that Yusuke was complicit in the plagiarism and forgery, guilty of extending peer pressure and covering Madarame’s crimes, or just a whiney attention whore missing a convict dick in his ass. 

Through all that, Yusuke stood his ground. He had only ever thought about Ren, coming to LeBlanc straight through all January, sighing so often that he was causing draft, diluting his espresso with tears and staring at the ‘Sayuri’ as if the woman on the portrait could give him any guidance.

But even now, during the hard-fought and won reunion, Ren and Yusuke wouldn’t talk.

Ren truly smiled only once - when Sōjirō returned from the convenience store and the notorious black cat suddenly hopped into the cafe through the open door, slipping past his legs. Everybody leapt to their feet, and the positively filthy cat went straight for Ren’s extended arms. So much happy crying and questioning happened afterwards that Sōjirō has developed a headache and presented the rowdy teenagers with an ultimatum, either they go home or he does; and again, it was Ren who proposed that maybe they should call it a night. 

The cat almost wouldn’t move from his spot on Ren’s lap, not till the end of that fateful evening, not the next day, and not on the days that followed. The boy didn’t seem to mind, petting the anthracite fur with a mechanical, absent-minded gesture whenever the cat would climb on him. He would sit unmoving in LeBlanc’s booth, closest to the door; Boss would usually see the art kid in this spot, because it had a good view at the ‘Sayuri’. Hours would pass like this, Ren sitting there without a single word, petting the cat and staring at the painting, unconsciously mimicking Yusuke’s habit.

When it was dinnertime, Ren would wolf down Sōjirō’s curry plate after plate like it was the best thing in the world, allowing his half-sister to fill him in on all of the things that happened in his absence, showing him stuff on her phone. He wasn’t speaking almost at all, communicating with nods and hums. He never laughed, other than giving out uncomfortable, forced chuckles when the mostly one-sided conversation especially called for it.

On the evening of Valentines day, Sōjirō’s consternation went through the roof. He had not expected to see Ryuji instead of Yusuke. The boys opened up some snacks and played video games all afternoon.

Towards the evening Ryuji came down, though, to answer a phone call. Boss could not help but overhear some of it in the silence of the empty, darkish cafe.

“Hi, Makoto. What’s up?” The blonde spoke in an uncertain voice.

_“Ryuji, can you maybe get a hold of Ren? He’s not picking up, it’s as if his phone has no service. I’m worried about him.”_

“Nah, he’s fine... I mean, he’s clearly not, but he’s alive. I’m in his place. Why?”

_“Yusuke is here, crying his heart out.”_

“Shit.” Ryuji kicked the floor with the tip of his shoe. “Yeah. Ren doesn’t wanna talk about it. He doesn’t wanna talk at all, he’s like at the beginnin’ of the first semester, ya know? Kinda… mute.”

_“But did he say anything about their break up? About Yusuke? Anything at all?”_

“Only that it’s his fault,” Ryuji frowned. His and Sōjirō’s eyes met and Boss shrugged, unable to confirm or deny any of it.

 _“Oh, but Yusuke says the same,”_ the downcast voice in the phone said. _“Alright, I’m gonna go do damage control. At least Ren’s safe. Thanks, Ryuji.”_

“Take care. Say hi to Yusuke from me.”

_“Will do. Bye now.”_

**~*~**

Next morning the attic was so still and so quiet that Sōjirō was sure Ren is not coming down at all. He sighed, put some fried rice and a decent cup of coffee on a tray and went up, only to see Ren fully clothed and ready for work, aiming for the stairs with an apron in hand.

“You’re going to help me today?” he asked, surprised, and Ren nodded quickly, eyeing him warily. “Well, if that’s the case, come on. But you need to eat something, you don’t seem to be gaining any weight.”

Ren complied. He ate his food, downed the coffee, cleaned up after himself. Started working, all without saying a single word above the absolute minimum. 

When past noon Sōjirō told him gently to take a breather, Ren sat down in one of the booths with the chess set. He arranged the pieces on the board and started the match with himself, wearing an expression Boss has never seen before. 

**~*~**

There was a steady stream of slow jazz and the same three Sting songs coming faintly from the attic whenever Ren was not working. He would rarely go out. He would not receive any guests.

Sōjirō knew it’s not the case of his friends not giving a damn. On the contrary, he and Futaba received countless phone calls and texts each day from all of the Thieves, who were beside themselves with worry. All of them except Yusuke, who was receiving news second-hand. 

Haru dropped by to leave some fresh vegetables from her greenhouse and nicely packaged tea leaves in seven different varieties. Ann brought sweets and some lightweight reading stuff. She tried to convince Ren to the idea of a walk in Inokashira, but didn’t quite succeed. Makoto inquired about the school Ren was supposed to come back to, to be able to help with any paperwork and planning, leaving brochures and forms that he would be in need of while transferring again. Futaba was the messenger; if Ren needed anything, she would arrange that for him, and she would pass on any information to and from the Thieves, as Ren wasn’t very active on the group chat. She also kept Morgana fed. Kasumi, the gymnast, stopped by once; Ren actually came down to see her and excuse himself in person. She seemed to understand everything and had left immediately with a look full of quiet acceptance, giving him a copy of her filmed routine, which he received gingerly before disappearing back upstairs. Ryuji was the only one who had a more permanent access to Ren’s hideout. He would supply DVDs and retro console games, and sometimes stay until the last train.

All of them were devastated with the idea of Ren leaving for home.

A week passed.

Sōjirō considered consulting Takemi. Ren looked positively depressed and it was becoming uncomfortable to leave him alone for the night. Sōjirō had goosebumps just thinking about it. But when he thought he just got a better idea and recalled the counsellor from school - whatshisname, Minato…? Masaki…? Maruki, whom he knew Ren had had some rapport with, he asked Futaba about him and was met with a sudden bout of teary screaming and a nasty door slam he had no idea what to do with.

What were these kids going through…? Sōjirō could not remember anything out of the ordinary since Christmas Eve, when they apparently emerged victorious.

Finally the silence was broken by a phone call.

**~*~**

“Kid…?” Sōjirō called gently from the staircase, emerging from the shadows to see Ren curled on the makeshift bed propped by milk crates. He was facing the wall, with his earphones in, and the cat was snuggling to him. “Hey. You alright?”

Ren got up immediately and flung his legs from the bed to sit upright. Removing the earphones, he simply nodded.

“Um… you have a phone call. It’s your parents. They want to talk to you.”

Ren blinked slowly in surprise; he took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyebrows quirked in a humourless, judgmental expression, but he got up. 

“Why bother now?” He asked, coming up barefoot to where Sōjirō was standing. “What do they even want?”

“I think it’s better if you hear it from them.” Sōjirō replied, trying to appear as calm and steady as possible. 

Ren shook his head, but obediently trotted downstairs. He sat on the barstool, picked the receiver and closed his eyes, bracing himself.

“Hello?” He asked in a tone of voice which was a perfect mixture of placid and content. He sounded almost happy they called. “Hello, Mother. It’s good to hear you. How have you been?”

Sōjirō observed him for a while, that skilled little actor with fake glasses, then returned behind the counter and kept himself busy with something. Ren nodded into the receiver.

“Mhm. Yes. That’s good. Yeah, sure, go on.” He kept his eyes closed, a short pause followed. “Yes. Yes. Mhm. I know, I, uh… I understand. Yes.” Eyes still closed. “Sure. No, it’s understandable. Of course.” A barely perceptible sigh. “I know, that’s alright. Do not bother yourself with it.” Another nod, another moment of silence; longer this time. “Well… if that’s what you decided, then that’s fine, of course. Okay. I will. You too. Mother… take care of yourself. Mhm. Yes. Bye.” 

He put the receiver down. 

Caught Sōjirō’s eyes, then glued them into the counter.

“So… I won’t be going home, after all.” He said, bemused.

Sōjirō swung the kitchen rag over his shoulder, patted his apron pockets searching for cigarettes. 

“I don’t know what the fuss is about.” He said, producing a pack of smokes and putting it within easy reach on the counter next to the phone. He disappeared in the kitchen for a second, brought a plate of curry and dropped it in front of Ren, who gave him a quick, sharp stare. “You _are_ home. Where else you wanna go?”

At first Ren did not react, but soon his bottom lip started to quiver and Sōjirō could not help himself but circle the counter and pull the kid into a tight hug. He still sat there on the barstool, shoulders sagging, his forehead resting on Sōjirō’s chest, letting out an exhausted sigh into the dirty apron. Sōjirō kept silent, simply holding him and observing the snow whirling outside the cafe.

When Ren lifted his head somewhat, he put both wide palms on his shoulders and pushed him up to sit straight. He took in the sight of Ren’s red, sullen face and squeezed the boney arms fiercely. The boy sniffled once.

“You know that in September, when you turn eighteen, you will be able to file for changing your surname?” He said seriously. 

Ren blinked, surprised; thought about it for a moment; then grimaced and gave Boss an incredulous look.

“ _Sakura Ren_? What am I, a low-budget anime character?” He asked, feigning outrage. They both laughed, and this quiet, natural laugh, the first sincere sound of the sort that reached Sōjirō’s ears in weeks, has melted a little bit of the fear and worry that has accumulated in his heart. 

“You are home.” Boss repeated. “Don’t get any stupid ideas, you can stay here as long as you like, and I will take care of you. I’m getting too old to run the cafe by myself anyway, so make sure you pull your weight and help me out; and we’ll fix the rest when it comes to it. Alright?” He asked, and Ren nodded, as usual.

“I... don’t know what to say.”

“Start with saying something at all,” Sōjirō patted him on the back. “I feel like I have a mute residing upstairs, or a ghost. Now, eat your food. Will you help me close up?”

“Sure, Boss. I… Thank you.”

Sōjirō smiled and reached for the cigarettes. Ren could have simply nodded, but he chose to speak up. Progress.

“Good. I’ll go home sooner and give your kid sister the good news. Unless… bollocks. I keep forgetting that she has this place bugged.” Boss muttered grumpily and sighed, going to the doors for a smoke.

**~*~**

Boss finally got a bit more convinced that Ren is not suddenly going to jump off a roof or decide to test the maximum load of the beam under his ceiling. It took two weeks, but he gave him a bit more freedom and eventually started to go home earlier. That left Ren with plenty of time to think and brood while he was cleaning up and closing down the cafe. 

Ren both liked those quiet evenings and he hated them. He liked to be left alone, that’s for sure; but in the same time he had a feeling he is never really alone, and the graceful shadow of a brown-eyed detective watches his every movement from the corners. When there was no one else around, it was all too easy to feel it. To get lost in this feeling. To rip the wound afresh, time and again. 

Picking up the last of the coffee cups to wash from where they were lined on the counter, Ren could practically see the lean frame in a mustard trench coat sitting on the stool opposite him. Like that morning before facing Maruki with an answer for the first time, when Akechi just casually stopped by LeBlanc to tease him and have Ren serve him a cup of coffee. Because he fancied it.

...Akechi had called the night before to relay all the information he was able to obtain on Takuto Maruki’s past, but he had never asked about the Phantom Thieves and how are they settling in their dream reality. He could have just simply wanted to witness the hurt and disappointment on Ren’s face when he asked him about them in person; that was probably it, to be honest.

“So how are your friends?” he asked casually in a pleasant voice, sipping on his cup of coffee. “Have you managed to talk to all of them?”

“I have.” Ren put aside the kitchen rag and sat next to him, with a cup of his own. Akechi gave him some more room. 

“Let me guess. They had no idea what you were talking about.” He smirked into his china.

“If you already know the answers, why bother with asking the questions?” Ren frowned at the aromatic, bitter liquid which hit his palate. Ugh. No matter how good he got, or how many coffee cups he had practised making, he still liked Sōjirō’s coffee better.

Akechi uttered a self-satisfied grin into his cup, but then thought about it closer and raised an eyebrow in doubt.

“Even Kitagawa?” He asked. “That’s weird. He had more brains than the rest taken together, he didn’t catch on that it’s all too perfect to be true?” 

Ren did not answer, poking the wooden box of chess figures propped against the books on the counter.

“Don’t tell me.” Akechi frowned, genuinely surprised. “In this reality, he doesn't remember that you’re a…?” He trailed off.

“He _does_ remember,” Ren answered irritably. “And it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with. They will come around, all of them; I have faith in them. They will wake up.”

Akechi all but ignored his reverent claim.

“He’s different, isn’t he?” He asked, returning to his coffee without a jab which should have been there. “And suddenly you’re not as close anymore.” 

Ren didn’t really know what to say; Yusuke was, indeed, wildly different. He looked healthy and fit, for one; he was fashionably dressed in good quality clothes. Self-assured, radiant, forward and openly displaying affection with rushed kisses which felt insincere. Shallow. 

Superficial.

“At least he’s not malnourished anymore,” Ren muttered. “I guess in this reality he doesn’t have to grow bean sprouts on the windowsill.”

Akechi made a face; tight-lipped and accusatory.

“You’re breaking. Already?”

“Shut up and drink the coffee I made you.”

…Ren sighed and shook his head, abandoning the memory. The cups were washed one by one and carefully placed on the rack to dry. 

He dimmed the lights. No one else would come that day, that was for sure. Wiping down the last booth, he turned to the small side table placed at the wall and reached for the chessboard with the pieces strewn around in the middle of a match. Judging the situation, he made a move with his black bishop.

He had to brace himself at the tabletop. He was suddenly feeling unable to breathe. 

Move, you sentimental fool, he told himself. He wouldn’t want this. Any of this. Any of this wallowing in grief. He would have strangled me if he saw. 

He would call me an idiot, like that time when he was standing in front of Penguin Sniper and saw me almost running in his direction. 

...It was almost too easy to follow the pattern of day-to day activities; to accept that there is school and homework and obligations and it’s normal, and the evenings are always conveniently free, and there is somehow nothing better to do at the end of the day than to take the phone out and message Akechi with a quick: ‘Darts. 20:00’ or a cheeky ‘I want to destroy you at billiards’, or ‘I’m at the Jazz Jin, this singer is great. Come on over’. And of course, he would always come. Rabid as he was, frowning at every kinder word and clawing like mad at any gesture betraying that Ren was _interested_ , he would still come back for more. Never quite ready to allow anything to happen, but sort of wishing it would. Was Ren reading it right…?

Probably not. 

Looking back at it, it must have been more dark and painful for him than Ren had imagined. Leisurely spending time with his rival must have been like poking a nasty splinter embedded deep in his hand. Akechi knew he will die when they defeat Maruki. He knew he will be practically erased from existence and everything he did or experienced in this spacetime simply will not be. Every breath he took was borrowed. He sugarcoated his last moments, last evenings with those ‘dates’, sharing time which wasn’t his to give in the first place, knowing full well that after all he had done he doesn’t deserve to walk free and listen to live jazz in his favourite spot in the world. 

One would imagine that in their free time, when they were not in the palace working towards their goal, he would be restlessly pacing around or stocking up on smoke bombs and lockpicks to fight for the reality he wanted - to just end all of this sooner; if not from his delusional sense of poetic justice, then at least to stop the pain. He hasn’t.

He should at least have the decency to avoid Ren, like he did with the rest of the Thieves, to spare himself this fake normalcy; yet he hasn’t. And on the other hand, he has also never taken any real action, never made a move to _live a little_ , to use this time he was given to the fullest. For a moment there Ren thought that maybe this whole situation will finally coax him to open, to admit his feelings, to _advance_ _on_ Ren. Yet again, he was mistaken.

So was this how he wished to spend the last days of his life? Was this what he really wanted to do, while he still could? Just go about his ordinary life as per usual? 

“I’m... glad you’re still normal, even in this bizarre situation,” Akechi told Ren once, when they sat there in Jazz Jin, eyes trained on the singer swaying gently to the melody of the wailing saxophone. “If you’d lost it too…” 

He wasn’t smiling. But there was no condescending smirk, either. 

Ren pretended to be engrossed with his blueish, fizzy drink decorated with a ribbon of an orange peel. He sighed and absentmindedly put his hand on the tabletop. Much too close to Akechi’s. Goro didn’t move away.

“...Well, if that happened, I would have just slapped you awake.” He said and smiled. 

Ren felt all fuzzy and weird when Akechi smiled these days. His fake mask was gone and so was his content, easy on the eyes facial expression. This smile, with his brows slightly furrowed and an aura of malice, was authentical. When he did smile, he meant it.

“Have you thought this through?” Ren raised an eyebrow. “You laughed me off when I went about awakening my friends. It would mean you actually _cared about me_ , you know.”

“I realize.” He said, cool as a cucumber. “I don’t think I have ever tried to particularly hide the fact that I do care about you. As my rival, you only deserve it, so I care.”

Ren flashed him an amused look from behind his glasses. _Did you care about me when you were about to shoot me in the head?_ He seemed to be asking.

Goro seemed offended. “Of course,” he added. 

Somehow through the course of the evening they had trouble sitting comfortably still; the chairs had to be maneuvered a bit closer to feel comfortable. There was also so many things to fiddle with, reach for their bags or check on their phones, and all that required moving their chairs ever closer. By the end of the evening, their shoulders were touching. 

It still wasn’t easy to allow himself to fall for Akechi. Each time Ren looked at Yusuke in Maruki’s palace, poor, silent Yusuke giving his all in a fight to show that he can be useful, or shooting him hesitant glances from the corner of a safe room, Ren felt like an abuser, like an absolute dirtbag. 

But in this reality, where all Akechi had done was conveniently suspended and they were fighting together like a well-oiled machine, tearing through the hordes of shadows in a formidable tandem, where Ren could feel the sheer pleasure of Goro’s battle skill, the influence of his intellectual push and bubbling laughter at his ironical, witty comments; in this reality, where his hot, bare rage made him suddenly go _hard_ in his Phantom suit, where adrenaline pumped in his veins each time he had to rely on him, because he could never really know if that smile was just self-confident or already plotting his demise - Ren has effectively stopped thinking. He dove headlong into it, for once in his life making an ill-advised decision to be entirely, completely selfish.

...On retrospection, it really was selfish. Truly, ugly, cruelly selfish. He should at least have some decency to spare Yusuke this pain of watching. To acknowledge his pining, to come up to him, to tell him that he’s confused and ashamed that this is happening and he has not acted upon it, that this is all in Ren’s head and it’s not Yusuke’s fault. To tell him that he still has feelings for him, but cannot help to hurt him even further and that’s why he is keeping his distance. But all of his hard trained guts were not nearly enough to do this and see the broken, betrayed expression on his face again. 

There was a red blanket folded neatly on a stool next to the coat hanger. Ren reached out for it instinctively; it was a blanket that served as a shawl of sorts whenever Yusuke would come to LeBlanc to spend an evening and sketch, or work on his more portable assignments in peace and quiet of a cosy cafe rather than the buzz of his dorm room. LeBlanc was drafty in autumn and winter, so Sōjirō invested in a couple of blankets for his customers to use. Yusuke would pick up the red one without fail; ‘why, because it’s your color’, he told Ren once with a disarming smile. 

The blanket still smelled of him. 

This he almost couldn’t take. This made him rethink the beam, because he had been consciously cruel to a person he authentically loved and he couldn’t take a single step under the weight of his _guilt_. His shame. His fucking stupidity, because he should have known better. His vivid and quite misplaced anger at Akechi, because maybe if that prick had told him sooner that _he’s not really alive_ , then Ren wouldn’t fall for him that hard... 

What a convoluted way of thinking. You really cannot blame him for this one, Ren heard Yusuke’s voice in his head. 

“I’m disgusting.” Ren said aloud. He folded the blanket and put it back on the stool. He had no right to miss Yusuke like that. No right.

He grabbed a mop. The floor was the last thing he had to do and afterwards he could just lock up, go upstairs, curl on the bed and pray for unconsciousness, focusing on Morgana’s warmth pressed to his side.

Halfway through the floor he turned around and his eyes fell on the door. A silhouette in a camel trench and a plaid scarf stood there through a blink of an eye, before Ren’s mind supplied him, again, with the information that Akechi was dead. 

He couldn’t help it. He went back to that evening when Maruki paid him a visit at LeBlanc. When he told them something Ren wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy. When all he could do was just stare at Goro in that absurdly flattering overcoat and feel the ground slip from under his feet.

“Don’t tell me you think dangling my life before us is going to have any impact on our decision.” Akechi had said back then. Perfectly collected. Lofty, even.

...And yet all Ren was able to say to Maruki was a horrified ‘Why would you even do that..?!’ followed by a flick of the calling card and a crude and much more sincere: ‘Get. The fuck. Out. Now.’

Maruki did get out, instinctively feeling that he is asking for a punch at this point. And soon after, the two of them, rivals, friends, crushes, who really knows what they were anymore - stood in front of each other, one outraged and despairing, the other one steadfast.

“I will carve my own path for myself.” Akechi said. 

“How will you do it if you’re dead?!” Ren asked in exasperation. “We don’t even know at which point will the reality restart, maybe you won’t get the chance!”

“He might just as well be playing you and feeding you a lie,” Akechi hissed, crossing his arms on his chest. “Knowing full well that you will be _emotional_ over something like this.”

“So you’re saying that you may be alive in the true reality?”

“ _I don’t know,_ ” Akechi hissed impatiently, articulating every syllable. “But I will take my chances. I refuse to live like this. It simply isn’t worth it.”

Ren did not seem convinced in the slightest, and Akechi wrinkled his nose, frowning angrily. “You only have to follow the plan. We are so close, it's a final stretch, we just need to show up there tomorrow and give it our best. Or, are you really so spineless that you’d fold over some bullshit, trivial threat on my life?”

“This isn’t trivial!” Ren all but shouted, stepping close to Akechi and grabbing his hand.

“It IS!” He shouted back, visibly taken aback by Ren’s expression. He looked more shocked now than angry; he stared for a second at his hand which Ren squeezed harshly, then took a step back and wrenched it free. His mask cracked, as if he _understood_ something suddenly. 

“Do you think I’d be happy with this? This tailored, fake experience? Being shown mercy _now_ , of all times?” He asked, looking Ren straight in the eye. “I don’t want to be pitied!” 

“This isn’t pity!” Ren yelled, gesturing at himself. “This isn’t hatred, either!” He pointed a finger at him. “God, how can you be so DENSE!”

Ren turned around, furious, took a couple of steps forward. He couldn’t look at Akechi, he couldn’t look into his determined eyes, he couldn’t believe that even now he knew exactly what it was he wanted and was so fucking _difficult_ to talk to…

“So you would rather keep me in a cage, knowing full well that I would be either miserable or brainwashed into something I am not, and you would lock yourself in with me, just because, what? You have a crush on me?” Ren heard from behind. 

He swallowed with effort, trying very hard to control his voice.

“If I trapped you in this life you didn’t choose and have no control of just to force you to be with me, I wouldn’t be any better than Shido.” He said, raking a hand through his hair. 

“So you do get it.” 

“But this isn’t about me, or what I want. This is about you. This reality may be the only chance of keeping you alive. I cannot with sound mind just... sentence you to death. I just can’t.” He turned around to face Akechi, biting his lip. He no longer cared about showing him his distress; he just wanted to see his face. “Don’t force me to be your hangman.”

Akechi bridled, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Have you got no backbone altogether? You don’t want to force me into this reality, but oh wait, you do? Make up your mind! What do you want?”

Ren moved fast like a released spring, coming at Goro and forcing him to take a couple of steps back until his back hit the wall just next to LeBlanc’s door. Ren planted a hand firmly on the side of Goro’s face, blocking the exit. Their faces were mere inches from each other, and Ren stared into his eyes with intensity, slowly closing the space between them. He could feel Goro’s breath quicken, his hands twitching nervously, as if he wanted to defend himself, but then abandoning the idea; his eyes, his beautiful eyes of the color of aged whiskey drilled into his as he challenged him. 

Their noses touched. They could feel hot breath on their lips, hear deafening heartbeat in their ears. Ren opened his mouth just ever so slightly. 

He _could not do it._ Could not close the minute, minimal distance between them; and Goro was unmoving, unwilling to meet him anywhere in the middle. The moment passed, the tension snapped as if someone cut it with a razor.

“You want me to do this for you?” Goro whispered, staring at his lips. “No, Ren. _I_ am not even here. And _this_ , now, isn’t real. If you wanted to kiss me, you should have done so in November.”

“Why?” Ren didn’t back off, hovering in that forbidden space, too close to Goro’s face, transgressing, trespassing. “Would it have changed anything?” 

“I doubt it,” Goro answered, perfectly still. “But at least it would have been true.” He raised his eyes, intimidating Ren again with this utter confidence he had. “As things stand, even if we kissed, even if we confessed and had sex afterwards, it would have been just empty movements. These actions would not have any consequence, would not carry any meaning. This _isn’t_ real. _This_ , counting from tomorrow, will never have happened, never have come to pass. Technically, this wouldn’t even be cheating,” he smirked, “and who knows, maybe you wouldn’t even remember.” There was a small pause. “What makes you think I would want something like that?”

Ren closed his eyes and backed off slightly. He kept staring at Goro’s flushed cheeks, at the soft, silky way his hair framed his face. He understood what Akechi meant. 

It’s just, he felt completely powerless. Rendered useless.

“Amamiya-kun, I’m flattered.” Goro spoke calmly, brushing his hair behind his ear with a short, graceful gesture, pushing his back off the wall and standing upright next to Ren. “I really am. But to entertain this any further is simply folly. I want us to come back to the issue of Maruki.”

Ren looked down and away. He said nothing.

“Your indecisiveness on the matter is essentially a betrayal of my wishes,” Akechi said, more adamant this time; a familiar tinge of irritation resurfaced. “I want to hear you say it out loud. What do you intend to do?”

Ren couldn’t. Just couldn’t.

“...Answer me.” His voice was so full of hatred.

“We’re stopping Maruki.” 

There was a second of stiff silence, after which Akechi seemed to relax visibly. He took a deeper breath, and his dark smile returned, settling on his face a bit more easily.

“Good. Finally.” He sighed, and his hands shook a little. “I would never accept this futile existence, being controlled and pampered for the rest of my days. I’m done being manipulated. Let’s go back… to our true reality,” he said almost gently, and Ren stared back, because he never suspected Goro’s voice can even sound like that, soft and almost vulnerable. Akechi smiled. Smiled at him. 

And then something happened. 

Ren already knew what it was; having seen awakenings of all the other Thieves and judging from the bodily signs, the dilated pupils, the breath suddenly cut off from the lungs, the euphoric, overwhelming tingling in the whole chest cavity and surging up, to the throat, he knew what was going on at first glance. But Akechi seemed dumbfound and caught completely unaware, and through a surge of enormous power and a wave of pleasure which burst in his heart, threatening to lift him off his feet, he didn’t follow his elation and kept his eyes firmly trained on Ren. When the feeling subsided a little, he realized that he had caught both of Ren’s forearms and was clutching at him.

“What was that…?!” He exclaimed, still shaken.

“You awakened to the new power of your Persona,” Ren explained. “You fused Robin and Loki together.”

Akechi blinked at him, surprised. 

“But…?” he stammered, looking around in confusion. “How could Robin Hood…? Unless…”

“Unless,” Ren smiled, giving Akechi’s hands a small squeeze. “He was just as legitimate part of you as Loki was. You never thought about it?” The detective simply shook his head no and it was Ren’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Hate to break it down to you, but you are not really evil, Goro. You just believe you are.” 

Akechi cleared his throat and frowned, pulling his hands away; it was obvious that he was rather confused with this revelation and keeps thinking about it. Without his hands to hold, Ren suddenly felt cold and strangely empty. Akechi stepped towards the door. 

“It’s time for me to go.” He said matter-of-factly. “Goodbye, Amamiya-kun.”

“Goro,” Ren said quickly, trying to come up with something to stop or at least delay him. Was this goodbye? The end, the last time they were really able to be together? For once, Akechi seemed to understand and even appreciate Ren’s concern - and he gave in, reaching out to touch his elbow delicately. They held hands.

“Our lives wouldn't really have any value, in this world," he said seriously. “We would just exist to satisfy his pipe dreams. I wouldn't want that, not for me, not for you. See you in Odaiba.”

His hand fell down slowly and he walked to the door. 

...He didn’t look back, Ren thought. Back then, he had been watching him take his leave as if it was in slow motion. Now, in his mind’s eye, he couldn’t recall all of the details. He couldn’t conjure him up as realistically as he would have wanted to. He would give an arm and a leg just to be able to see him again. Not even to talk; just to see him.

Dipping the mop in the bucket, Ren stared into the suds. He was just tired, now. A tempting thought appeared that he could simply ditch it and just go upstairs, but his respect for Sōjirō wouldn’t allow him to do it, so he wrung the mop again and slammed it on the floor underneath the booth. It was a difficult part to reach, and he had to bend low to be able to see what is he doing, so he abandoned the scattered thoughts and just focused on the task at hand. 

Two booths down, he just had the last one to do, when a figure appeared in LeBlanc’s door. Ren didn’t notice it at first, bent over and preoccupied. When he finally stood up straight, allowing his brain to come to terms with the sudden spinning and trying to shake the thrum of blood in his ears, he thought he hears a sound of tapping on the glass. He turned around, alarmed.

There was a silhouette of a tall boy in a green jacket standing there, with his arms wrapped around him, with hair soaked through and dripping with slushy snow, his lips blue from the cold. He was knocking on the door of LeBlanc, looking at Ren through the square panes, his breath leaving a huff of steam on the glass.

Ren propped the mop on the wall and went up to open the door quickly. Yusuke shifted his weight impatiently, obviously agitated, waiting to be let in.

“What are you doing here at this hour? You’re soaked! What happened?” Ren asked in shock, taking in the artist’s sorry appearance, but Yusuke waved his words away immediately and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, the only thing that came to mind to effectively stop the suffering that Ren was going through:

“He’s alive,” Yusuke said, wrapping his arms tighter around himself on the doorstep. “Akechi-kun is alive.” 


	4. Camelot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yusuke appears at LeBlanc to offer Ren some important information. Then he offers up himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: NSFW, penetrative anal sex, raw sex. Quite frankly: some crying, under-negotiated kink, dominance/submission and elements of power play, and the boys figure everything out as they go, because at some point it just happens in a relationship. Everything is consensual and done out of love. Probably not healthy, but keep in mind that they DO love each other. I told you there is a happy ending to this!  
> Other than that, some angst, but not as much as before, stealing Sōjirō's booze and some (hah! some,) liberty on Velvet Room mechanics. Just because I can.
> 
> Notes: I re-uploaded the prologue, because it felt like such a disaster. It's shortened now, and there is some Ren/Yusuke dialogue at the beginning + sassy Akechi pining. It's probably still a disaster. Disregard it...

**~*~**

“What did you say...?!”

Yusuke shivered harder and hid his face in the collar of his coat when a gust of wind swept past them, standing at the doorstep of LeBlanc. His arms tightened around his middle in a futile attempt to keep at least somewhat warm. Ren just stood there, shocked and stupefied.

“I know for a fact. Goro Akechi is alive. He’s out there, somewhere,” Yusuke said, looking into Ren’s eyes and sniffling loudly. His voice was very raspy. “I talked with Maruki. Because I figured, if anyone would really know, that would have to be him, he had to know what was he doing when he was creating that world, he had to know if he was reviving him, creating him from scratch or just changing the circumstances around his life to…”

“Whoa, wait wait wait. Maruki told me himself that Goro is dead in the real world. So you’re saying that he lied to me?”

“Maruki doesn’t...” Yusuke started, but a powerful fit of coughing interrupted him, shook his frame and made his eyes teary. “He didn’t know what it is he saw, he didn’t understand his powers, I pieced it together, you see…” and he started coughing again.

Ren stirred finally and moved away from the entrance.

“I can’t understand a thing,” he said. “Just… come inside. I’ll get you a towel.”

A puddle formed on the floor immediately after Yusuke entered the cafe and stopped uncomfortably in the entrance. Ren closed the doors behind him and went upstairs to bring something for him to dry off; his mind was in a weird state, he has just heard that Goro is… alive, and yet this information did not seem to reach him, bouncing off his ears, unacknowledged by his brain, easily discarded as total bullshit. There’s no way. And besides - just how many times must he endure it? Alive, dead, then alive again, then willingly dying, now _alive_? Any more of this Schrödinger’s cat fuckery and he will go insane for real. 

Coming back down with a fresh towel, Ren saw that Yusuke took off his woolen coat. The shirt underneath was soaked through and the fabric of his black trousers stuck to his legs. Just how many hours was he out there in that awful weather? The artist was rubbing his hands up and down his arms, trying to bring at least some warmth to them, standing uncertainly next to the booth; Ren felt a sharp sting in his chest. Yusuke looked feeble, like he had lost some weight. Or maybe Ren just hasn’t seen him in a while, long enough to see afresh how much of a beanpole he was. He felt his stomach clench.

Ren passed him the towel and stepped into the kitchen to get the kettle going. 

“What happened? Why are you so wet?” He asked after a while of uncomfortable silence.

Yusuke dried his hair and wrapped the towel around his shoulders; the navy strands were in total disarray, sticking out in all directions.

“Uh… I might have had to spend some time out, trying out every cab in the city center,” he said quietly in that sore, croaky voice, deciding to sit down in the booth. “Maruki is driving a taxi now. His friend, Shibusawa, was kind enough to prompt me with the name of the company, but I didn’t know his hours, and the dispositor lady... well, she wasn’t of any help.” 

“He’s a taxi driver now? Of all things?” Ren asked, surprised. “Did he turn into an Equalizer now? What the hell,” he muttered more to himself than to Yusuke, preparing a cup and a tea bag. He glanced appraisingly at the sorry sight that the artist was and reached for a jar of honey, then opened a cabinet under the sink, where he knew Sōjirō is keeping the juice, and produced a half-empty bottle of rum.

Yusuke apparently did not get that reference, because he kept staring with one eyebrow raised, sniffling from time to time. 

“Never mind. So how long was ‘some time out’?” Ren asked before he thought about it better, catching himself on his habit of looking after everybody all the time. He cursed himself internally. He wasn’t sure he was able to look after anybody now, surely not himself, particularly not Yusuke; he wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to do that any more, either.

“It’s… nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Yusuke said, confirming Ren’s suspicion. He shuddered, turning his head away.

“You’re going to be ill.” Ren heard himself say, bringing the cup of hot tea to the booth.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said, sniffling again and reaching out for the cup. “Thank you for the tea, but please listen to me now. It all makes sense.” 

Ren sat down opposite him, staring at his long fingers wrapped around the mug. 

“It required a bit of… persuasion, but Maruki told me everything he deduced about Akechi. The primary source of his knowledge of him and his fate was... us, all of the Phantom Thieves, whom he has met and, well… counseled. Some of them, at least.” Yusuke fixed his eyes on the tabletop. Ren winced; he could only suppose how much data was involuntarily supplied to Maruki during Yusuke’s half-a-year therapy.

“So Maruki probably told you that Akechi is dead, because that’s what he gathered from our cognition. We all saw that bulkhead cut him off, we all heard the shots, Futaba told us there are no vital signs. We believed that he died, so that’s what Maruki believed, too.” 

Ren nodded. He had entertained that thought briefly before. 

“Another thing… Maruki’s reality did not take hold overnight. He was only able to really exercise his power to the fullest after New Year’s Eve. So, the Akechi you saw on Christmas… was not Akechi somehow ‘conjured up’ by Maruki. He didn’t have enough power, knowledge or expertise to create a real, living person from scratch just yet. And the most important fact of all…” Yusuke stared at him intently from above the mug, a thin wisp of steam raising into the air. “Makoto told me that you have seen Akechi in the Velvet Room. When you freed us all from our cells. Remember?”

Yusuke waited for some sort of answer, but he had to fight with another fit of coughing; he bent almost in half, covering his mouth with a hand. Ren frowned and pinched his nose; did he just catch a goddamn bronchitis only to tell him a bunch of loosely tied observations that did not hold under closer scrutiny?

“It was just a vision, he wasn’t really there,” Ren said irritably when the cough subsided and Yusuke could finally hear him. “For all I know it was just a trick of my own subconscious, projected there by Yaldabaoth to distract me before the final battle. To show me what will happen to all of you if I don’t accept his deal.” Ren shook his head, irritated. “You think I never thought about this? I have, I asked Lavenza. But it was just a vision, Yusuke. And a really shitty one to remember him by.”

Ren slid down the seat and closed his eyes, already exhausted by this exchange. 

He wished he had never seen Goro there. He would seriously prefer it for his most vivid memory of him to be the proud, handsome boy on LeBlanc’s doorstep, who defiantly walked out to meet his fate, not a shred of hesitation in his eyes. But no; he had to keep recalling this one foggy cell door at the back of his mind, the one cell that never opened, the one cell that looked different and terrifying and Goro was just sitting there, hiding his face in his knees when -

“But... it wasn't just a vision. He was there. Physically was there.” Yusuke’s voice made him open his eyes. “Makoto saw him too, and Maruki confirmed it. So unless all three of you were hallucinating, we can take it as a fact.”

Ren stared, rendered silent. 

The artist leaned in, drummed his fingers on the table impatiently. “Listen; when we defeated Yaldabaoth, Maruki became the new God of Control. He tapped on to him, for the lack of a better word; he could do whatever Yaldabaoth could and shared knowledge with him too. But Maruki has never seen the Velvet Room, so he didn’t really comprehend what it was; and when Maruki’s mind encountered Akechi locked in some weird, abandoned space between worlds that he could suddenly access and to some degree command, he just… decided to let him go.” 

Ren lifted a hand to his forehead slowly; he felt goosebumps on his nape. His muddled, grieving mind suddenly sparked with understanding, and he leaned in to Yusuke.

“He set him free? That cell was real?”

“Exactly,” Yusuke said, leaning towards Ren in turn. “He… must have lost in that engine room. Yaldabaoth snatched his fallen champion and locked him in the Velvet Room…”

“...for eternity, like he warned he will do with me should I fail,” Ren finished. 

“He was transported with mind and body from the collapsed Palace into the place between worlds. His body has never been found, after all. He was stuck there for about a month, and he had no memory of it, you said that he just woke up in Shibuya on Christmas Eve, is that right?” Ren nodded ardently. “But when we defeated Yaldabaoth, the power he held over his champion loosened, and his disappearance left Akechi’s Velvet Room empty and unguarded." Yusuke said, rubbing the back of his neck. “By defeating Yaldabaoth, we, kind of… saved his life. Or rather, we gained the authority to decide his fate.” He bridled with a small scoff. “And passed it on to Maruki, along with all other wishes we had. The good doctor didn’t realize that he is not ‘reviving him’, just... facilitating his transition from the Velvet Room to the real world.”

Ren blinked a couple of times. It was a lot to take in.

“He told you all that?”

“Essentially. We have... figured some aspects of it in retrospection together. You see, we Thieves all had each other, and we could discuss our powers, the origin of Mementos and Palaces, the whole mechanics of it, talk it through with our guide, remember that we had Mona… While he was, mostly, working on gut feeling and suspicion.” 

“So how can he be sure?” Ren insisted.

“Because in case of Akechi, he didn’t have to create life from scratch,” Yusuke answered, taking a bigger sip of his tea. His hair and clothes dried a little, but he still looked like a wet bird; he drunk greedily at the hot tea to warm himself up, never even noticing there was alcohol in it. “He had to put a substantial amount of effort to alter reality enough to bring back Wakaba and Okumura. You have to understand, he did not turn back time, he did not create some cognitive zombies, he... took the very matter of reality and formed it so that they would come into being again. For Akechi… he said it was more like ‘opening a door’. Which would make a lot of sense...”

Another loud, wet coughing fit shook him. Ren jumped a little, suddenly tempted to touch him, to hold his hand; he didn’t know if that would be well-received, though.  
  
“Besides,” Yusuke continued with his eyes closed and his forehead supported on his fist, “Maruki is… quite oblivious. He wouldn’t believe me when I explained how in this… gap of power after Yaldabaoth’s defeat we all kind of made him a new God. It came as a shock, and he’s a bad actor… he wasn’t lying to me. You know…” Yusuke hesitated, glanced up briefly. “He is not in a good place. It took me a while to sift through everything he was saying, to make sense of it… But once I have, I realized that he is suffering so much. Honestly, it gives me the chills; he was running rampant in this state, playing with things he did not understand, unhinged and grieving, it could have ended in the most gruesome way… sooner rather than later, for all of us trapped under his spell. It really seems for the best now that we managed to shut him down.”

Yusuke took another sip of the tea, wiped some of the cold sweat and tepid rainwater from his forehead.

“What did you put in here? It’s really good,” he asked, gulping down some more.

Ren smiled sadly.

“Rum.” He said with a small shrug of his shoulders. 

Yusuke hesitated, scowling at him from underneath his disheveled bangs. His cheeks started to get somewhat pink. With a telling look he glanced at his mug and then at Ren, wordlessly asking for more; Ren quirked his eyebrows, went over to the bar and returned with the bottle and a cup for himself.

“What if he’s stuck in there now?” He asked, pouring more rum into Yusuke’s tea.

“In the Velvet Room?” Yusuke clarified. “No… I’m quite sure he’s not in there. If Maruki hadn’t let him out, he would have finally reappeared in the material world on his own. You should be sure of it, after all, you have a walking, shedding, purring proof right in front of your eyes these days.”

“Morgana…?”

“Mhm. He appeared out of nowhere, released from the space between worlds, because we kept him in in our memory and…” He hesitated, then laughed shortly, toying with his mug. “And in our hearts.” He turned his eyes away.

It felt like a slap. A sudden pool of cold gathered in Ren’s abdomen; the heavy, uncomfortable silence stretched on for a couple of minutes, and he felt like running upstairs to hide. He couldn’t look at this poor soul in front of him, so utterly squashed with the significance of what they were talking about, spurned, abandoned and rejected by Ren himself, obviously unwell, but in the same time mercifully delivering the very thing that could bring him back to life. Another sacrifice he has made for him. Ren almost couldn’t take it; it was too cruel to watch him like this. Unable to speak, he just downed his cup, refilled, offered some to Yusuke. 

“Why are you telling me all this.” He whispered finally.

The artist sniffled. 

“Because you are in pain.” He drank and grimaced at the much stronger taste, hitting his palate with the sweetness of molasses and a potent tinge of alcohol. “Because no matter what I do, I still love you and I can’t forget about you. I just… can’t watch you like this.”

He sighed, bit down on his bottom lip. 

“As a matter of fact, I was afraid to come here. I know I owe you an apology, but... I wasn’t sure if you will be willing to accept it.”

“Apology?” Ren bridled. “You? Come on.” 

“Yes,” Yusuke said sadly, staring into space. “I left you to mourn him alone… twice. In the end, all this amounts to is abandonment. In one of your most vulnerable moments, I turned my back away; after the engine room, I just pretended that I didn’t see… and afterwards, I lashed out selfishly, unable to see past my own pain.” Yusuke shook his head. “Also, now that I think about it calmly… I can see this infatuation as something that partially stems from my own faults.” He sniffled. “My dependance on you, my clinginess, my… complete and off-putting insecurity. The fact that no one had taught me how to… be in a relationship... is a weak argument. I wish I had handled it better.”

He drank all he had in his mug in one go, licked his lips nervously and fought back a hiccup. 

“Yusuke, why are you like this.” Ren sighed sadly. “It is obviously my fault, you… you just have to know this. You had all the right in the world to get mad… and even now, you’re just sitting here, taking the blame. Or you’re casually saving my sorry ass, making a huge sacrifice of your own future and your art, just after we had a fight of the century, when... all I did was hurt you. Hurt you, and reject you, and spit on everything we have ever been.”

Yusuke endured his stare, though his eyes started to shine tellingly. 

“Was it really so?” He asked. “Did you reject me?”

Ren shook his head slowly. His voice would fail him, so he settled for gestures.

“It’s not your fault that you fell in love.” Yusuke said shortly, pushing the mug towards Ren again, requesting a refill. “Matters of the heart are beyond rationalization and command of logic.”

“Feelings, maybe. But actions, not quite.”

Yusuke shot him a sharp look. His jaw clenched, and there was a question in the air that he obviously wanted to ask. Ren lifted a cup to his lips with a hand that was shaking slightly.

“We haven’t even kissed.” He gave a clipped answer. “But still.”

Silence engulfed them for a longer while.

“Not that it can really change things a lot, can it?” Yusuke shrugged finally with a sad grimace, desperately trying to keep his face under control and failing. “You’re going home in less than a month now.”

Ren shook his head again.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not going home?” Yusuke asked, the pained expression breaking for a second - and lowered his eyes in shame quickly. “I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t...”

“No, it’s alright,” Ren whispered. “Actually, it was a relief.”

“But… how so? What happened?”

“They simply don’t want me back,” Ren shrugged. “My mother called to say that my story already reflects bad at them in town; that all of this commotion around me and the fact I was put in juvie was the last straw. And they don’t want a homosexual under their roof, they, um... didn’t bring me up that way.” He laughed bitterly. “She said it would be easier if I just finished high school in Tokyo, and that I can count on a small allowance until I’m of age, but I should probably find something part-time. How prudent of her, don’t you think?”

Yusuke sniffled, looking away.

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” He asked. “About that conference. The rumours, the comments. I brought it upon you.”

“No, Yusuke.” Ren shrugged. “If they have a shred of common sense, they had figured it out a long time ago. It’s just convenient for them to admit it now and hide behind a pretense, so that they don’t appear too shitty as parents. But the truth is, they… they never really wanted me around.” 

Yusuke looked at him for a while.

“How are you holding on?” He asked.

“Bad,” Ren said simply. “You?”

“Bad.” Yusuke’s eyes were awfully glassy.

“That deal with Kawanabe, is it going to be…” Ren started, but was interrupted by sudden movement as Yusuke drank all he had in his cup in one go and clunked it loudly back on the tabletop. Ren could tell he is fighting to remain calm and see this to the end with at least some decorum.

“...it’s not going to be the same as before. I’ll still have a say in this.” He said, a bit too confident to be convincing. “Never mind, though. It’s… not important. I just came here to tell you about Akechi… I figured this would help. You are going through a lot… so… just rest assured, he will turn up at some point. There’s no telling when and where, and it shouldn’t stop you from living; don’t make it your goal now to postpone everything and wait for him, because… because you will go mad,” Yusuke finished, pulling the towel from his shoulders and scrunching it up in his hands. 

“...I know,” Ren mouthed soundlessly. 

Yusuke was folding the towel and unfolding it mindlessly.

“D-do you want me to go…?” he asked.

Ren shuddered and shook his head, as he literally could not imagine Yusuke walking out the door; this would shatter his heart, _again_ , into a myriad little pieces which he will never be able to pick up or glue together, and he will be just left maimed and forever branded to live on with his guilt and this sheer bleak apathy of every single day, knowing full well that this is nothing less he deserves. He shook his head again, trying to reach for his voice.

“Stay, please,” he mumbled and dared to look up at Yusuke - what he saw on his face made him stare, and just stay unmoving, afraid to as much as take a breath. 

They shared this uncomfortable, heavy, sticky silence, drowning in the pain of it out of pure need, because to break it or cut it short would have been a hundred times worse, it would be too sickening and just plain _undoable_. They couldn’t even look at each other properly, but neither dared to move. Yusuke sniffled and fought back another fit of coughing, looking somewhere over Ren’s shoulder.

And then, as if by some miracle, he trembled awake and took a deeper breath; he suddenly came to a reckless decision, Ren could see it in his eyes, and with a lot of effort asked him the question.

“Do you know what it all boils down to…?”

Ren listened intently, knowing full well that a single word from him can either condemn or save them both. 

“The question here seems to be… whether you love him, and don’t love me anymore, or…” he swallowed, whimpering quietly, “...or whether you love us both… in the same time.”

Ren froze with his mouth open; his heart just stopped.

“And what if it is the latter…?” 

Yusuke sniffled. He smiled weirdly; it looked out of place, embarrassed, ashamed. 

“You know, I watched ‘Camelot’ recently,” he said and shrugged abruptly at this confession. Ren huffed out a humourless laugh, suddenly reminded of Yusuke’s adorable, infuriating habit of watching the same movies over and over again, ever since he got his hands on a DVD player and a small library of films, which Madarame never condoned watching in general; a quirk Ren had missed so badly.

“How many times have you seen this silly thing by now?” he smiled.

“Twenty-three,” Yusuke answered truthfully. “Do you know what came to my mind…? If… If Arthur didn’t forgive Lancelot and Guinevere… then there really would have been no Camelot, ever, not even a memory of it, because everything it was and what it stood for in its prime would have been just... negated, denied… erased,” he explained, catching shallow breaths in between. “And without his forgiveness… there could never be a Camelot again, either.”

Ren sat there for a while, completely stunned. 

He put his hand on the tabletop. On his half of the tabletop.

“Are you saying… what I think you’re saying?” 

Yusuke let go of his cup and put a hand on the table as well. On his half, not close enough yet. He stared at it, at the few centimeter distance that separated their fingers.

“I’m, um… saying…” he started, but trailed off, not really knowing how to finish that sentence. 

He inched closer, reaching out with his trembling fingers to touch Ren’s knuckles and retract immediately. 

Ren felt his heart beat again, a single, prominent _thump_ behind his sternum that he had thought he couldn’t register for days on end. 

“But… that would be cruel to you,” he whispered hesitantly. He moved his hand closer so that he was touching Yusuke with his pinky.

“I’ll take your cruelty,” Yusuke said suddenly, and once it was out in the air, he just sighed and continued on, resigned and tense and hopeful. “I’ll take your cruelty if it means I can be with you. I’ll take anything and all you wish to give me.” 

Their hands joined. Ren entwined their fingers together and with jerky movements that had nothing to do with his usual Joker grace he slowly moved out of the booth to circle the table. Uncertain, looking at Yusuke’s crumbled frame in the booth, he fell on his knees in front of him and slowly put his head on his lap, still clutching the hand that was offered; the reaction was immediate and Yusuke reached out to hug him, folded himself over him. 

“He’s not coming back, you know,” Ren whispered. “If he’s out there somewhere and he never spoke once, simply letting me believe that he’s dead… he’s planning to make it stay that way. Clean slate. It would only make sense. So, you know...”

Ren felt long fingers tangle in his unkempt hair. 

“Sadly, I just don’t believe it. He’ll be back, he’ll turn up like a bad penny to take you away from me again with his condescending smirk and another challenge or trick to entice you with. It’s just my luck, you know?” Yusuke whispered. 

“I really wanted to know he’s alive,” Ren swallowed thickly, burying his face in Yusuke’s thighs. “But… that’s enough, _that is enough_ , that’s all I really need, so if he ever comes back…”

Yusuke shushed him, lifting his head up gently. 

“Don’t declare anything now, you can’t, really,” Yusuke slid down his seat as well, landing on the floor next to Ren. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Ren gathered him in his arms violently, frantic to feel him against his chest; desperate hands dug into clothing, miserable expressions were buried in each other’s shoulders, gasps and mewls got swallowed up by their shirts. They held onto each other, whispering the same three words over and over again in between feverish apologies, rocking back and forth, kneeling there small and curled into each other, like lost children.

A black cat appeared on the steep stairs leading to the attic and perched there on a wooden step somewhere in the middle, watching the two; the prolonged absence of Ren made Morgana worry and finally forced him to venture downstairs, abandoning his warm spot on the bed where he had decided to hide from the awful weather. Seeing the two of them finally back in each other’s arms was... a bigger relief than he had imagined. 

Morgana didn’t say anything, didn’t make a sound; just smiled to himself, as much as a cat could, and hopped back towards the attic, feeling a load lift off of his mind for the first time in weeks.

**~*~**

There was a small commotion in LeBlanc, as the ubiquitous group of friends finally managed to get together and see Ren in person after he has sent them an apologetic message on the group chat. The Thieves started to appear in LeBlanc one by one, starting from Futaba, who practically ran into the cafe along with Sōjirō and thundered up the stairs without waiting for permission to enter, the last one being Haru, returning from a corporate board meeting as late as the evening, flushed and agitated to see Ren, apologizing for keeping them waiting. 

Sōjirō himself could not have been happier to spot the green coat on the hanger next to the door in the morning; he smiled good-naturedly, patting his pockets for smokes and shaking his head, settling for making some usual, easy breakfast for his peculiar little family and The Boyfriend. Once he saw the boyfriend in question, though, he threw his hands in the air and cursed under his breath, because a very disheveled and mildly feverish Yusuke needed a proper, big, warm meal and a paracetamol chaser.

The news of Ren not going home made all of the Thieves ridiculously happy, and seeing all of their reactions, Ren finally allowed himself to feel some sort of happiness too. Futaba plastered herself all over him, making good use of the fact he was no longer walking around projecting a solid wall of personal space; Ann and Haru shed actual tears of joy and Makoto ripped up the school leaflets and transfer info pamphlets theatrically. Ryuji encircled his shoulders with one arm and held for a good minute. 

Finally he sat straight with his brows furrowed, as if bracing himself to say something.

“Hey… I know you have been through some real, tough stuff lately. And… I am glad you trusted me enough to have me around. And if you’re ok with not goin’ home, then I am more than ok and I will support ya always.”

“...But?” Ren asked, having a sinking feeling that there is a ‘but’.

“...I’m thinkin’ about movin’ away for a while. To fix my knee up and get back on the track team sorta thing. Don’t be mad.” 

Ren wasn’t mad; he couldn’t be mad. A little sad, maybe; but he has been sad for so long now that he had barely felt this as a new burden; rather, a fork in the path - even if all of his Thieves, one by one, revealed some new, grand plans they have started to realize in his prolonged absence. Ann was moving temporarily to study abroad, Haru and Makoto were entering college, Futaba announced that she will be a highschooler soon - all of them were going separate ways, and it stung, but he knew this is all for the best; and after he got promises that they will never really disband as a circle of friends, nor abandon each other in need, his heart settled. 

He couldn’t help stealing nervous glances at Yusuke, though. The artist was currently sipping on his third ginger tea, sitting wrapped in a blanket with his knees brought up to his chest, a thermometer under his armpit and Morgana peeping over his shoulder.

“Ren, are you feeling alright?” he asked finally, when the looks became a bit bothersome. 

Ren raked a hand through his black locks.

“I’m kind of bracing myself against the sudden news that you are planning an art tournée around Europe or applying to a university in Paris,” he mumbled and Yusuke smiled tolerantly, setting his tea aside and settling Morgana down.

“I’m staying right here.” He said calmly, and for the first time since they started dating he trotted to his side, sat on his lap and leaned in for a small kiss when all of the Thieves were present and watching. Ren obliged happily; he made a happy face at the surprised and tender expressions of their friends and gathered him close. 

“Let me check that thermometer for you, hm?” He mumbled as he reached for it, read the scale and put it aside with a pleased shrug. “You will live.” 

“Everything falls into place,” Haru smiled, watching them fondly and making some space on the couch for Morgana to settle; Futaba jumped up and stuck a breadstick into Yusuke’s mouth. He waved her away in feigned annoyance.

“Exactly! Inari and Ren got back together, big bro is staying in Tokyo, this stuff calls for a celebration,” she chittered.

“Have to say, I was a little worried ‘bout you two,” Ryuji muttered, reaching for a bag of chips. “I’m glad ya sorted it out. It was just… eh. Don’t do it again, okay? It was an effin’ nightmare,” he threw a Featherman freebie from the chips bag in Futaba’s direction and she caught it neatly.

“What Ryuji is trying to say is that it was really heartbreaking to see you apart,” Makoto supplied, “and yes, this is all the more reason to celebrate. I am just… happy to see you back together. It’s just… as it should be.” 

The Thieves stayed up late in the small attic, chatting happily about their plans and foreseeable futures; Futaba picked up a fight with Ryuji over a lost console game and threw a fit over a rematch, Haru and Makoto browsed flat advertisements and discussed them vividly with everyone, Ann told them more about the course she decided to attend in NY and they all got really excited about the places she would go and stuff she would be able to see. Ann promised photos and postcards, but Yusuke practically demanded an on-the-phone tour of Broadway once she settles in, and they ended up discussing shows which would be on during her stay in America; Ren just listened. He could listen to them all for hours.

Once it was really time to go, both him and Yusuke waved them goodbye from LeBlanc’s doorstep. 

Ren put a hand on the small of Yusuke’s back, watching his friends wave back and leave their alley in direction of the Yongen-Jaya station, still laughing and cracking jokes. It was a good feeling. A feeling of being home, with his chosen family; a fulfilling impression that his friends will be back for more warm evenings filled with coffee and laughter and he will be able to host them, in the place where he belonged. 

Futaba bounced on her feet, hitting Ren’s shoulder with her tiny fist.

“I’m heading home,” she announced. “You wanna… leave the care of the kitty to me for this night, you two lovebirds?” she asked with a dangerous glint of her glasses. Morgana just hissed, while Ren smiled stupidly.

“Futaba, I don’t know what you…”

“Yes, please,” Yusuke said suddenly, cutting Ren off. “That would be very appreciated.”

“ _Oui_ , Inari,” Futaba smirked and picked Morgana up, holding him away from her not to get clawed to death as he suddenly started struggling and yelling and protesting. “Night night!” She called and run towards home. Morgana’s meows and screams echoed through the darkish alley, and an irritated neighbour shut the window loudly.

Ren snickered and opened the door for Yusuke, who caught the last glance of the night sky and quickly slid inside.

**~*~**

“Make love to me.”

Ren was visually taken aback; he stiffened on the bed where he lay beside his boyfriend. They have been cuddling for a longer while now, simply taking comfort in each other's presence, but the demarcation line of their shared hesitant caresses seemed to be located at the waist this night, and so Ren was not sure if Yusuke really means what he says. 

He hesitated, and immediately felt two urgent hands tug at the collar of his polo shirt, unbuttoning it. 

“Are you sure…?” Ren asked, reaching out to pull the artist closer and trap his hands immobile between them; he searched for the truth in his grey eyes, but he only saw this demanding, unprecedented urgency. 

“I need you,” Yusuke whispered, writhing against Ren. “Please... I need to feel you close,” he looked straight at him and it was painfully obvious that his eyes are starting to water.

A bit uneasy and clearly not convinced, but only wishing to make it right, Ren relented; he figured that any more let-downs would be simply wrong at this point and detrimental to Yusuke’s mental health. He shushed him gently and leaned in to kiss him; his hands wormed themselves down his sides, then up again, feeling up the length of his arms. Yusuke relaxed a fraction, what Ren took as a good sign; he kissed slowly, languidly, indulging in all the tenderness in the world, letting Yusuke feel that he is the sole focus of this endeavour. 

Yet it didn’t seem to be enough, or a right thing to do. 

Yusuke mewled quietly at the featherlight caresses and quickly started to show impatience. His hands scrunched up Ren’s top up to his armpits and began to wander shakily, feeling up his midriff, but soon that was not enough too and Yusuke moved to hastily unbutton his own shirt, kissing back all the while with much more force than Ren used. That hurriedness confused Ren, made him slip up and lose his rhythm; Yusuke sighed deeply, as if distressed by something, and after he had opened his shirt completely and slipped it down his shoulders to expose some flesh, he reached to his own waistband to tug his fly open. His bottom lip was definitely shaking.

“Hey, hey, hey… wait,” Ren noticed this and stopped him gently, placing a tender hand on his chest, planting a row of small kisses on the length of his sternum. He glanced up to catch his partner’s attention. “Maybe... we should slow down.”

Yusuke froze, looking at Ren. His eyes were wide.

“Are you rejecting me again?” He asked quietly. Even if there was no accusation in his voice, Ren felt himself going cold and all the hair on his nape rise. 

“No, nonono,” he cooed, watching with horror as Yusuke’s jaw clenched and he stiffened underneath him. Ren felt backed into a corner. “I just wanted to be absolutely sure that you’re okay with this, so soon… and frankly, I’m thinking that you’re not,” Ren tried to reason. Yusuke shook his head on the pillow. 

“I am,” he said. “I want this. I want you. Please, Ren, I want to know we’re doing it, I want to know we’re back together, I need to feel it,” he said, pulling him closer by the shirt. Ren paused, hesitant; but seeing this dogged expression, this unabashed need emanating from Yusuke and the distress he himself had caused - he gave in, abandoning the idea of talking him out of it.

“All right,” Ren smiled briefly and leaned in for another kiss. 

Things happened surprisingly quickly. Yusuke kissed back with fervour, boldly sticking his tongue into Ren’s mouth. He made a quick work with opening his own trousers fully, and Ren helped him to slide them off his long legs along with his underwear; Yusuke kicked the garments on the floor, uncaring where they landed. Ren moved to roam his hands over the suddenly bare form of his lover, sliding through his stomach - almost concave as he lay flat on his back, to his sides - where he could clearly feel the outline of his boney ribcage. He closed his mouth over a nipple, sucking at the hardening bud, and Yusuke’s hands were in his hair, tugging and pulling and spurring him on.

Yusuke’s chest was heaving under Ren’s face as he tormented the nipple. With an incoherent, quiet complaint, Yusuke’s hands abandoned the black locks and reached down to grope at Ren’s shoulder blades and then his lower back, slowly sliding towards his still clothed backside. He squeezed there with force, hooking his fingers under the round curve of the buttocks and pulling Ren up an inch. The movement rubbed their groins together. Ren felt Yusuke’s hardness press against the front of his trousers, hot and leaking, leaving stains on the fabric. 

This stark contrast was new and exhilarating. Yusuke was almost completely naked, while Ren didn’t even have a chance to remove his top. It was clearly working for the artist, if his panting breath and half-lidded, clouded eyes were anything to go by, and Ren had to admit there was something exciting about this for him, too; the way the rough fabric of his jeans and the cold metal of his belt buckle pressed against the vulnerable flesh of Yusuke’s privates and the soft skin of his abdomen, harsh friction escalated by the texture of he garment. Ren ground his hips experimentally, eliciting a hiss and a flutter of eyelids; Yusuke grabbed his buttocks firmer, urging him to do it again, pulling him closer. 

“Please,” the artist breathed, tossing his head back. Ren latched onto his neck, nibbling down the soft column of flesh while humping at will. “Ah… please, please-please...” Yusuke moaned, and Ren started to feel a real rush of adrenaline at this blatant display of submission, desire threatening to cloud his restraint altogether.

Yusuke’s left hand let go of Ren’s ass to reach up and nudge the drawer of the bedside table. It was a clear message; Ren moved to fumble with the messy contents of the drawer to find a bottle of lube and a condom. 

He was unpleasantly surprised when he found that he was a tad underprepared. 

“Shit,” he muttered. “Um… we don’t have a condom.”

Yusuke frowned for a second, processing this information, but then shook his head sharply.

“That’s fine,” he said in a raspy voice. “We can do it like this.” And he started to unzip Ren’s trousers to palm his bulging erection through the thin cotton of his boxer briefs. 

Ren felt an alarm go off in his head. It was unlike Yusuke, he has always been wary about it and they have never had raw sex before; he eyed him suspiciously, not moving.

“It’s okay,” Yusuke repeated, swallowing loud; there was a tinge of irritation in his expression. He freed Ren’s member from his boxers finally and pumped his length, looking him straight in the eye. “I really don’t mind. It was stupid to hold back for so long.”

Ren didn’t think that it was stupid, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been fantasizing about having Yusuke like this before. His mouth went dry at the thought of cumming inside him, shooting his seed deep into him and watching it trickle out afterwards, like a liquid brand, staining the inside of his milky thighs. Knowing that he would be the only one who has ever touched Yusuke like that, having his permission, a plea in fact, realizing that they will cross another boundary together made his head spin. 

Deciding to disregard the nagging thoughts at the back of his head he scrambled backwards to sit on his heels and hooked Yusuke’s leg over his shoulder. He noticed that there is not that much lube left in the bottle, and he vaguely recalled that he had meant to restock before all of the stuff went down; well, no helping it now. He squirted some of the leftover gel on his two fingers, hoping it will be enough. Yusuke lifted his hips eagerly, his head lolling on the pillow. 

A whimper escaped him as he was entered; a trembling hand located itself on Ren’s knee and squeezed there. Yusuke closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of being stretched, scratching the fabric of Ren’s jeans to hurry him up and add another digit. Mindful of the amount of lube to ease the way, Ren withdrew and pushed back with two fingers, stretching and scissoring as best as he could. He felt like he should add more, but there was barely enough left to slicken himself. Yusuke patted his knee.

“Don’t worry about it, that’s enough,” he breathed, reaching with both hands to invite Ren into his arms. “That’s all I need.”

“No, I don’t want to hurt you,” Ren said, gently stopping Yusuke’s hands. “You need to be ready,” he said, focused on keeping his gentle pace in and out of Yusuke’s passage. 

The artist wouldn’t have it. His leg dislodged itself from its spot on Ren’s shoulder and Yusuke sat up, giving him minimal time to withdraw his fingers; Ren stammered in confusion. Yusuke moved forward quickly and bent down to hover his face just above Ren’s penis; he brushed his bangs behind his ear and swallowed Ren’s length down. 

Ren gasped at the sudden heat enveloping him; it went straight to his head, and he had to catch the makeshift bedframe to steady himself. Yusuke ran his tongue up and down and around his member, coating him with spit. When he deemed it was enough, he drew back slowly, a couple of translucent threads of saliva still connecting his moist lips to the head of Ren’s member; he glanced up to catch his eyes in cute embarrassment. Ren’s eyes went wide at the sight, the black of his pupils swallowing the grey almost completely; Yusuke brushed the back of his hand over his mouth, snapping the strings of spit, and quickly moved to lie on his back again.

“That should do it,” he whispered, spreading his bent legs on the mattress, and Ren was wound up so tightly that all he could do was fall into his arms and cover his body with his own. 

“Oh my God, Yusuke,” he muttered, positioning himself over his entrance. “You don’t know what you do to me, you have no idea…” he cooed incoherently while pushing in slowly. Yusuke arched off the bed with a choking sound, a deep, painful frown appearing on his face, but the hands holding Ren clenched even stronger on his back, and he spread his legs wider to accommodate his lover.

“You… you’re so tight,” Ren gasped, his eyes fluttering close. He stopped briefly to calm himself.

“Go on, I want to feel you,” Yusuke moaned in turn, allowing Ren to push in fully, wrapping his long legs around his waist; a grimace of pain twisted his features at the penetration, but he didn’t even want to stop to allow himself to get used to the stretch. He only urged Ren on. It was all too fast, too soon, but Yusuke paid no attention - he just gathered Ren closer, burying his face in his shoulder to hide the tears that threatened to spill.

Ren was pretty much overwhelmed; he could feel that Yusuke is considerably tighter than usual and it was dizzying, veiling his senses with a thick haze of pleasure and robbing his thoughts of coherency. Though he was trying to be careful not to hurt his partner, he was aware that it couldn’t be ideal for him, so he resisted the prodding hands and urgent sounds that spilled from Yusuke’s mouth and rested his weight on his elbows, boxing him in, forcing him to wait. 

“Y-you ok…?” he uttered, bracing himself against the wave of unbearable heat that blinded him for a while. His fingers tangled into the navy hair, petting gently.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Yusuke whined. “Go on. Please. Move.”

“Just a second,” Ren muttered, nibbling at a delicate earlobe. “Relax, Yusuke… you need to relax or it’s going to hurt,” he managed to say.

“I don’t care,” Yusuke whispered. Ren looked at him closer and saw how red his face is, how much he’s trying to hold the tears back.

“I don’t care if it hurts,” he repeated, shaking his head. “I don’t care if I tear, I don’t care if I come or not…” He swallowed loudly, shaking his head. “I don’t care what others think of me, or how complicated this is. I want to be with you. I want a place with you. I want you… to want me, too…” he trailed off with a desperate mewl, pushing down on Ren’s length, trying to achieve some friction. Ren observed it all with growing unease, frowning at how obviously anguished Yusuke is. He shushed him gently and rocked up into him instead of thrusting, to allow for some accommodation still, but giving him _something_ ; he cupped the side of his face and turned it so that they were looking eye to eye.

“I _do_ want you,” he said adamantly. A tear slipped down Yusuke’s cheek and he wiped it off with a thumb. “ _I love you_. I never stopped loving you. I swear...” 

“ _Ren_ ,” Yusuke arched up to his touch, pushing his head back into the pillow, rolling his hips to impale himself deeper. He succumbed to the lean arm sneaking around his waist, pulling him up as Ren started thrusting in a slow, steady, assured rhythm. “Harder. Take me. Harder,” he panted. “I want to know... I want to be sure...”

The movements grew in intensity as Ren picked up the pace; Yusuke was desperate and needy, and Ren knew instinctively that consolations and gentle caresses won’t work now. If he wanted to be taken, Ren would give him just that. Propping himself with one hand and holding Yusuke close with the other, he couldn’t give his weeping erection all the attention that was due, but he could angle himself so that he would hit his prostate, so he did just that. Yusuke’s breath hitched as he felt it.

“Yes,” he exhaled, throwing his head back. “Yes, there, there…”

“I love you, and you’re mine, and I’m going to _make_ you believe it,” Ren said in between thrusts and louder and louder moans that Yusuke gave out each time his sweet spot was hit. Ren felt him loosen somewhat, so he dared to push harder and finally saw Yusuke respond, uncurling a bit and giving in to the sensation. 

He was getting more vocal, meeting Ren’s thrusts with a jerky sway of his own hips. His brow was furrowed, and Ren could tell there must be pain involved, but hopefully there was pleasure as well. Ren growled deep in his throat and settled Yusuke down on the mattress, so that he could grab his legs under the knees and push them up high in the air; the artist whined at being exposed so. Ren slammed into him, bringing out more sweet, aching sounds. 

“Ah… I… yes… Oh my God, Ren...!” Yusuke called out, finally letting go, hot tears slipping past his eyelids. “Yes… this… I need you so much... I want to belong… I can’t… I c-can’t be left alone again, I can’t handle...” he blabbered incoherently, and a nagging sting of worry cut through Ren’s pleasant abandon, too strong to ignore this time, abruptly turning him off; his rhythm stuttered and slowed. Ren actually started paying attention and listening to the stream of desperate words coming from Yusuke.

“I can’t live without you,” he continued, sniffling loudly and retracting into himself, stiffening under Ren’s body. “It was torture... I want to be with you, I love you… ” 

“Yusuke, calm down,” Ren whispered, absolutely terrified. He stopped moving altogether, let go of Yusuke’s legs; he reached down to grasp at his arms and rub clumsily.

“I don’t care if you only use me like Madarame did,” Yusuke cried desperately, the dam finally breaking and tears spilling free, his slim form starting to tremble. “I’ll do anything, just let me s-... p-please, I love you, I… love you…” 

Ren froze. His stomach clenched at what he has just heard. He was still buried to the hilt inside of his crying lover, and it was positively the worst feeling in the world, beating even being imprisoned and threatened by a malevolent, omnipotent God, because all of this distress, all of this anguish cowering before him was _his_ _own fault_. He tried to withdraw, knowing that they absolutely should stop right there, but Yusuke was too far gone and the lean legs locked themselves around Ren’s waist, trying to keep him in.

“No, no, please, no, I’m sorry,” he cried, wrapping his arms around him. “Don’t push me away, don’t… please...” 

His voice faltered, stuttered into a mewl as he noticed that Ren is staring at him with an absolutely terrified expression. He broke down completely, hiding his face from view, legs still locked in a desperate cramp, muffled sobs wrecking out from his lungs. Ren was too shocked to move - his thoughts were racing, his erection started to wane; he was rapidly looking for a way out of this, for a good way to stop or a way to calm Yusuke down, any way to turn this emotional carnage around, to convince him that this is not a rejection - 

  
\- and he went and did something completely reckless, but something he knew in his gut Yusuke will answer to.

“I said, I love you and _I will make you believe it_ ,” Ren hissed in a low, slow voice, bracing himself against this gamble and tapping into his overconfident alter ego. He caught Yusuke’s nipple in his teeth, biting down on it. Hard. 

Yusuke yelped; a pained, surprised hiccup of a sound, disrupting his crying and tethering him to the here and now. Ren covered his mouth with a hand roughly, pushed his head into the pillow, abandoned the nipple with a rough pull of his teeth.

“You say you want me? You want this?” he growled a question, grabbing his ass cheek to squeeze it harshly. Yusuke stopped crying as if on cue; there was a full second of hesitation, before he nodded under his palm - visibly shocked, but compliant. 

“Good. Because I am _not_ letting you go. Hands above your head!”

Yusuke obeyed the command immediately and Ren caught both of his wrists in a hold, letting go of his mouth.

“You are to keep quiet,” he barked, pushing into Yusuke hard enough to shove him up towards the wall. The wide-eyed stare and pursed lips, intent on holding back any sounds as ordered, were what made Ren stir with interest again; three more thrusts, hard enough to force a single moan to escape, and a fast slap to the unprotected backside in retaliation - the unashamed, beautiful shockwave that went through the lean body - and he was ready to race.

“You think I’m deceiving you, that it’s all talk, that I don’t really mean it,” Ren panted, setting up a punishing rhythm, not caring about the deep frown of pain that appeared on Yusuke’s forehead and the fingernails digging clumsily into the skin of his hand. “But I’m about to prove it to you! I will… claim you as mine, I’ll bind you to me, I’ll take everything that you are…” he whined, rutting in abandon, saying all the words that would tick all the boxes for the insecure artist, but soon realizing he has only scratched the surface and there is more, so much more where that came from. 

“I was... going mad here, in this attic,” Ren moaned, “...bereft of you, unable to do anything, alone and _grieving_ ,” he gasped, angry and desperate in the same time. 

He let go of Yusuke’s wrists to untangle his legs from around his waist and hook up one knee over his shoulder, hiking him to his lap, so that he would be laying partially on his side. Yusuke cried out at the sudden change of angle, which made it so much easier for Ren to brush his sweet spot; he made a feeble attempt to get away, so Ren spanked him again, harder this time, and Yusuke clamped a hand over his own mouth. 

“Struggle all you want!” Ren slapped his thigh too, leaving a visible, pink handprint, and Yusuke shuddered, biting down on his knuckles not to scream. “You know I will handle you! And I told you to be quiet!”

Taking his still erect length in fist, Ren gathered up the precum and pumped him with force, thrusting up into him simultaneously. It was clumsy, but Yusuke’s free hand fisted in the bedsheet so hard his fingers went white and he stiffened on the bed, his back arching beautifully; he was trying his best not to scream as pleasure came to the forefront and sparked under his eyelids.

“You are mine, and mine only,” Ren gasped, continuing the onslaught. “Repeat that!”

“I-I am yours, and yours o-only,” Yusuke moaned, barely holding it together.

“I love you and I will never abandon you,” Ren grit his teeth, feeling that he’s starting to inch close to his release. “Repeat!” He yelled.

“You love me and you will never abandon me!” Yusuke cried out, closing his eyes. “You… love me…”

“I’ll take such good care of you,” Ren kept working on Yusuke’s member, allowing the familiar rhythm and practiced movements to bring him the most pleasure. “I’ll take care of you and you will give yourself over! Well?!”

“I’ll give myself over!” Yusuke responded, relieved that he has an excuse to make a sound and using this fact to yell almost at the top of his lungs. “You’ll take care of me!” 

Ren smirked with satisfaction at the telling signs of his impending orgasm; he sped up, making sure to flick just under the head with each stroke and hit home with every thrust, and Yusuke’s eyes dilated in surprise, breath caught in his breast, spine went rigid, toes curled -

“...I’ll own you, little Fox,” Ren whispered to Yusuke’s ear and planted his mouth on the side of his neck, sucking a hickey through the sudden, violent release that tore through him. Yusuke screamed, and Ren was really happy that Sōjirō isn’t downstairs. Yusuke grabbed the bedsheet in both fists like a lifeline. A splatter of cum covered Ren’s palm as he milked the orgasm out of him; some of it stained the white polo and trickled to the linens underneath. 

Yusuke clenched tight, and that in itself was almost enough to send Ren over the edge as well, but it was the post-climax look on his face that really did it - the look of painful and willingful surrender. Ren came to the feeling of fluttering walls of his passage, shooting his load in deep and collapsing on top of him with a heavy, blissful sigh, sweated and out of breath, his muscles trembling with exertion. 

Stillness and silence wrapped around them, almost deafening after the frantic scene that has just transpired. 

After a small while Ren stirred and gathered Yusuke close, buried his nose in his hair and stroked his head tenderly with his clean hand. Yusuke was limp in his embrace, simply allowing the last remnants of his anguish to leave him and evaporate; for once he was uncaring about the messy aftermath of sex and seemed to ignore the hot mess on his stomach, partially soaked up by Ren’s shirt. They stilled in each other’s arms, catching some rest. 

The realization of what they just did approached rather slowly.

“...Are you alright?” Ren whispered after a while, when his heart has finally stopped racing. He was dreading the answer a bit.

“...Yes,” Yusuke whispered back, surprisingly calm; he smiled tentatively, and though it juxtaposed weirdly with his puffy, red eyes and the raw voice, it was a genuine smile.

Ren nodded, reassured; he leaned in for a very gentle kiss and carefully examined Yusuke’s face. The artist calmed down visibly, his breath came more naturally and he was giving him a look of almost adoration, which twisted Ren’s guts in both very good and very scary way. He made to withdraw gently, and Yusuke winced against the unpleasant feeling; he knew he would be walking funny tomorrow. Ren kissed his frown away and took off his own shirt to clean them both up with it. 

“I didn’t give you enough credit,” Ren said slowly with a small sigh, diligently wiping Yusuke’s belly button and leaning in to lick it clean as well. “And I am so sorry for that mistake. I won’t make it again. I didn’t tell you anything when I started to suspect what is going on... I kept my feelings from you, out of fear that you wouldn’t want nor try to understand them.”

Yusuke reached out wordlessly and Ren held him close, cradling his lover against his chest.

“But... you do understand. You want to. You try to, in every way possible. You didn’t shy away from me.” Ren gave him a small kiss. 

“Nor you from me,” Yusuke said in a raw voice. 

Ren reached down to touch in between Yusuke’s legs, where some of his seed has trickled out and smeared on his inner thighs. He smiled with satisfaction, feeling this slick, silver moisture he himself had put there; Yusuke would have blushed if he wasn’t already red on the face; he whimpered quietly.

“We’re doing it, Yusuke,” Ren said calmly. “And we’re doing it right this time. I love you and I want to be with you.”

“I believe you,” the artist whispered and nestled closer, while Ren took his shirt in hand to wipe between his legs. Yusuke gasped and twitched, but nevertheless let him do it.

“No more secrets,” Ren said seriously, looking him in the eye - and Yusuke nodded, soundlessly repeating the phrase.

The attic was really quite cold, Ren noted once his shirt was off. The small heater he had acquired from the old man running the flea market was only helping to fend it off to some extent. Deciding to act quickly, he took the covers from under them and tucked Yusuke in, then stood up to fetch an extra blanket and added it on top of the duvet. He took his jeans off quickly and slipped into the bed beside his boyfriend, spooning up behind him. He flicked the small lamp off.

“It hurt, didn’t it?” Ren asked in the midst of coffee-scented silence, as if he wanted to test the limits of the newly sworn rule they have agreed upon. He focused on tracing an idle, circular pattern on the naked hip underneath the covers.

“Yes,” Yusuke answered with no hesitation. “But… it was good hurt. I’m sure you gathered, but I wanted… I think I needed to be hurt.”

Ren hummed in response, lost in thought. He still had to process that information.

“And, if I need to be hurt again, in the future… then what?” Yusuke asked quietly.

Ren stopped the pattern drawing, pulled him close and stuck his nose behind his ear, teasing him with his huffed breath and kissing there.

“I will give you all you need,” he whispered. 

Yusuke’s lips curved upwards in a calm, sleepy smile. He realized he feels safe again.

**~*~**

He was running down a blue, foggy corridor, having a very weird feeling that he has been here before, but not quite; he somehow knew that he is asleep, but he was lucid anyway; he recognized the place, but it was different. Felt different. 

He recalled his purpose here; free his friends. Locate the cells. Snap them out of it. Right.

Among the cells of the blue mental prison there were empty cells too. Ren saw many iron doors seemingly leading into empty rooms, so he didn’t pay much attention to them and just focused on looking for his friends. Sound of his heeled shoes tapped quickly, rhythmically on the blue brick floor as he ran. 

All of the cells were empty. There was no sign of his friends.

 _Wait, it’s not supposed to be like this,_ Ren thought. _It played out differently. This here_ \- he noted - _it was Makoto’s cell_. 

The cell stood empty. 

Ren whipped his head around to examine a path he came from, but there was none. Just a long, neverending corridor, curving gently to disappear in darkness. No way but forward, or maybe endlessly around. He called out for Lavenza or Igor, but his voice didn’t even echo like his steps did - it was as if he had no voice. He cleared his throat; the sound came out fine. But his words wouldn’t.

Weird.

He started walking. Small blue lights made his path clear, reminiscent of the intercity buses or planes lighting. Except with the mystical fog. Eerie.

Soon enough one prominent cell became visible. 

It was at the faraway end of the corridor, shining with pale, blue light, appearing and dissipating into a solid wall, as if emerging out from fog. It wasn’t really a cell, except for the iron bars; it was a bathroom. Ren recognized it.

All of the appliances were _huge_. It made a bizarre impression, because the room seemed small and cramped, like a typical tiny bathroom in a regular apartament of a block of Tokyo flats, and the cell door was of normal size, but in the same time it looked as if it was made for a giant to use. With his own height, Ren could barely see above the sink; he felt small, like a ten-year old again, too short to reach and too weak to jump high enough to see what he wanted.

The walls of the bathroom were covered with dirty, cracked tiles which had been white once; there was a frameless, broken mirror screwed down roughly to the wall, the sink surface was absolutely filthy. There was a hard lump of grey soap laying on a chipped plate there and two worn-out toothbrushes, one big, one small. The floor was scattered with pieces of mismatched clothing and a damp, stinky towel. 

The bathtub was taking up the majority of the space, a dirty, moldy curtain was dipped inside and covering it from view. Ren could tell though that the water inside is... not of normal color. 

The tap was leaking. A steady, measured, surprisingly loud blip-blip-blip of water droplets could be heard and it distracted him enough to figure out something; this cell missed its occupant too.

Ren smiled.

He knew now why he finds the place familiar - he has indeed seen it before. But before, just after finding Makoto and releasing her, in this ghastly bathroom they saw a huddled figure of Akechi. 

He was sitting by the bathtub, with his knees brought up to his chest, hiding his face and pushing his fingers hard into his ears, as if trying to block out a distressing sound. It was an adult size Goro, but he was dressed in short pants with colorful pockets and a baggy T-shirt, like a child would; Ren could remember his cute red sneakers, because they had marker drawings on the rubber tips and all along the edge of the sole. One shoelace was untied and dirty from stepping on it all the time.

Ren had been calling him, gripping at the bars of the cell, banging on them, but Akechi would not hear a sound. He would just sit there, unmoving, his forehead resting on his knees, his shoulders trembling; and no matter what Ren had said or done, he would not raise his eyes, nor hear him calling. The cell would be like sealed off with a soundproof, two-way mirror.

But now, as things stood - this cell was empty, and when Ren touched the iron bars, they just disappeared with a flicker of blue light.

Deep breath. Deep breath. Step back. 

Ren opened his eyes and he was in his room in the attic of LeBlanc. It was very dark, apparently middle of the night; no sound came from the room or the cafe downstairs, and there was a definitive human warmth on his side, breathing, alive and sound asleep.

Ren realized he is sitting on the bed; he must have woken up with a start.

 _So he really did leave there_ , Ren smiled to himself. _Thank you, Lavenza. Or anyone who’s listening. Thank you._

He settled back into bed, briefly thinking that maybe this dream - because it surely wasn’t a trip to Velvet Room, he could tell - was sent to him because he has finally done the right thing. Lavenza has never struck him as a vengeful or mean one, but taking under consideration that she was part Justine, part Caroline, she might have wanted to teach him a lesson. Ren sighed; it sure felt like one, but it was also disarmingly good to know that Akechi is really alive.

He traced the side of Yusuke’s face with a finger; even in the dark he could tell he is slumbering peacefully. Ren gathered him up in his arms; he sighed and settled for finding his lost sleep. 

He could only hope that Goro is sleeping alright too, wherever he was right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone feels like talking fandoms or discussing writing fics, @GreyPigeon4 is my twitter. I know now how to answer DMs, but other than that don't expect me to know how it works...


	5. Knot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yusuke pulls one of many all-nighters to finish a painting, and Ren finds him in need of some gentle reminding how does self-care work. In the meantime, someone arrives in Tokyo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: We're opening with some more NSFW content, M/M established relationship, smut, groping, finger-fucking, penetrative sex, Domestic Discipline, praise kink, orgasm delaying. I figured the boys need some time alone before I rain disaster on them again. Also, description of assault, but nothing graphic.
> 
> Author's Notes:  
> 1\. This chapter contains a small homage to the fic of Arsoemon, let me know if you caught up on that dear! ;)  
> 2\. Due to extensive and informative conversations about translation of the games with a very, very wise person I decided my characterization is a bit OOC within the cultural context of Japan. Shame on me, but it's not like I ever lived there, and it is a learning experience... And it's not like I didn't warn you^^... So I'm just gonna carry on...  
> 3\. Thank you all for commenting under last chapter. You keep me going.

**2 YEARS LATER**

**~*~**

When Ren came back from his cold morning shower, Yusuke was still fast asleep, the outline of his slender form visible under the soft, white blanket. His mouth was slightly open, like usual when he slept so deep; his hands were laying palms up, open and defenseless on the pillow next to his face. Ren sighed, shaking his head. Even though he was probably dead tired, he still looked so peaceful.

Ren didn’t even remember what time it was exactly when Yusuke came to bed; it must have been somewhere in the middle of the night. He sighed, a bit tender, more than a tad worried; typical Yusuke. So engrossed in his painting that he only remembered about such trivialities as sleep or food when he was absolutely knocked out. Ren had spent a good part of their relationship trying to engrain some healthy habits and self-care into him, and it mainly served as a cause for concern, but Ren knew it’s simply part of the deal. And he could also respect the level of commitment. Yusuke was naturally able to lose himself in his art, focus on working until an idea was properly pinned down, ignore the passage of time and needs of his own body like an enlightened zen master; it did not simply disappear only because Madarame was no longer there to exploit that.

Also, there was this itty-bitty guilty fun fact that Ren _loved_ how Yusuke’s sleep-deprived body under the strong sway of unconsciousness was always so pliable and warm against him, so easy to arrange or carry, so perfectly submissive under his seeking hands. Ren smirked and stepped out of his bathrobe, tossing it on the floor; completely naked and with hair still dripping, he approached the bed.

When he slept like that, Yusuke was so warm. That was about the only exception; his hands, feet and nose would always be cold, as he was so lightweight and apparently had very low blood pressure. But deep in sleep, under the warm cocoon of blankets, especially in the pale hours of the morning when snuggled to Ren’s side - he would finally be warm. 

Ren climbed on the bed and under the covers, spooned up behind him and _took_ from that warmth. 

He breathed Yusuke in. Curled onto him as much as possible, pressing his slightly damp chest to Yusuke’s back and his pelvis to the small, tight curve of his backside. He run his fingers slowly down the slender sides, feeling up every rib, every muscle, every inch of skin. He placed a row of tender kisses along the spine, from the nape of his neck down, pressing his face in between Yusuke’s shoulder blades. He wrapped his arms around him and hugged, hugged him close, hugged him strong, as if Yusuke could somehow slip from his grasp, disappear and leave him with nothing but the evaporating body heat on the linens. 

Nothing; Yusuke slept on, unaware and malleable in his reverie. Tightly pressed against the lean body, with his hands roaming his partner’s chest and stomach, Ren could quickly feel himself becoming hard. He fit perfectly in the cleft of Yusuke’s ass; more and more hot pressure built there as Ren grew to a full mast. He exhaled heavily, feeling the warmth engulf him for a moment; he gave out an experimental, long roll of his hips, and Yusuke’s delicate fingers twitched involuntarily, but nothing beyond that. He slept on, oblivious and trusting and unaware. 

Ren willed down the urge to just rut against him until he wakes up. As alluring as the thought was, Yusuke’s body so warm and defenseless in his arms, Ren longed to witness his reactions at giving and receiving pleasure. So he loosened his arms a little, pulled at Yusuke gently and made him lay on his back, so that he could see his face. He cupped his cheek tenderly.

“You have no earthly idea how beautiful you are,” Ren whispered. He wished he could just somehow imbue Yusuke with such positive affirmations, so that he could absorb them in his sleep and feel better about himself. “You should recognize how good and pure your heart is.” Ren placed a slow, wet kiss slightly on the left side of Yusuke’s chest. “I wish you would give yourself credit you deserve.” He paused there, hovering above with a smirk; his mouth wandered languidly to the small, soft bud of Yusuke’s nipple.

Maybe it was all the fondling and groping, maybe the solid weight of Ren’s penis resting on his thigh, or maybe it was a pleasurable reaction to the hot tongue and gentle nibbling lips, but finally Yusuke began to stir. Ren smirked; he was on the right track.

“Wake up for me,” he cooed, taking the nipple in his fingers and squeezing gently. “Come on, beautiful. I want to hear your voice. I want to see you open your eyes. It will be such a long day, we won’t be able to see each other until late.”

Yusuke’s breath quickened a little. Ren smirked again and moved his hand to the other nipple, taking the first into his mouth again. He sucked gently, then circled the areola with the tip of his tongue. There definitely was a reaction.

“Wake up for me, Yusuke.” He murmured in a low voice, sending vibrations down his chest and skimming hot breath over the nipple. Yusuke’s brows grit together and he drew in a slightly deeper breath. “Come on, honey… I’ll make it worthwhile.” 

Without opening his eyes, Yusuke moved, his limbs flexing slightly as he adjusted his position. His head lolled on the side and he swallowed, his jaw going tense, then lax again. And he slept on. 

Ren huffed an amused breath through his nose and shook his head.

“You clearly require more _incentive_ today.” He smirked. His right hand wormed itself down, through the flat plane of his stomach, past the border of the waistband of his pajama pants. Ren wrapped his fingers loosely around Yusuke’s soft member, just fondling there, playing absentmindedly as his lips travelled across his chest, leaving licks and kisses and tiny lovebites in their wake.

Yusuke moaned. Finally, he started to come out of his dreams. His eyes fluttered open, and before he could say anything, Ren claimed his mouth.

The kiss was languid, devoid of any urgency; Yusuke did not react at first, not yet aware of his circumstances, passively allowing Ren to plunder his mouth as he pleased. Which Ren did, to all of his ability, whirling his tongue around Yusuke’s own, brushing the roof of his mouth, reaching deep before retracting gently and nibbling on his lower lip until finally Yusuke started to respond.

“Good morning,” the artist whispered in between kisses with a small smile, blinking his eyes open.

“ _Very_ good morning,” Ren smiled back. “I love you.” 

“I love you too...” Yusuke responded automatically, his head lolling to the side again to rest on the pillow. He would fall asleep straight away if Ren didn’t do something, but thankfully there was backup in form of an insistent hand on his member, squeezing gently and rubbing in all the right places. A small smile blossomed on Yusuke’s face as he felt himself stir with interest under those skillful administrations.

“What time did you go to bed?” Ren asked in a mock-accusatory tone. 

“Half past four,” Yusuke answered truthfully. “What time is it…?”

“Just before nine,” Ren said. “In two hours I have to open up LeBlanc. That’s why I thought we could have breakfast together.” Ren never stopped working Yusuke’s length as they spoke.

“Oh… I forgot, you are helping Sōjirō today…” Yusuke groaned in a sleepy tone, sadly realizing they will spend the whole day apart. “I’m so sorry, I should have… ah, Ren...” he moaned as nimble fingers flicked just under the head, where he was the most sensitive.

“Don’t worry about it. Did you finish, though?” Ren asked with a grin, tugging at the base of Yusuke’s now fully erect member, eliciting a shudder.

“I think I did,” he said, reaching up with his arms to wrap them around Ren’s shoulders. He gave a small, but perceptible thrust up into Ren’s fist; his eyes opened slowly and they were beaming.

“Then all the more reason to forgive you,” Ren laughed and gave him another slow kiss, never stopping his hand. “It looked so promising, I’m sure it turned out beautiful.” 

Ren recalled the piece in question and the last phase he saw the painting in. Yusuke has been obsessed with detailing lately, doodling intricate mandalas with his calligraphy pens or spending hours on the tiniest patterns on object surfaces in his still life paintings; the last time Ren saw his current work was more than halfway through a huge wisteria branch, which Yusuke draped across the canvas shielding the mountain range in the background. Ren really liked it when Yusuke drew landscapes. It was maybe more of an obvious, uniformly pretty thing to paint, an easy preference to have; but Ren was a man of simple tastes. Besides, he knew that the landscape itself was not the focus of the work. Just a pretext to put an insane amount of time and structure to each violet petal and make them hyper realistic. And experiment with clear resin coat, which Yusuke added as a glistening last layer to some of the petals to imitate the chilly morning dew. To capture fragility and evanescence and seal it in place without a camera.

“It’s... my turn to cook,” Yusuke muttered, having some difficulty in focusing when subjected to Ren’s touches. “What would you like for breakfast…?”

“ _You_ ,” Ren muttered an old, cheesy line and slid down Yusuke’s chest in an obvious intent, pushing away the covers and garments as he went.

“A-ah!” Yusuke took a sharp intake of breath, suddenly more lucid. His hands flew to Ren’s hair, tightened in the unruly black locks as Ren hovered above him, nuzzling his erect length. “Oh… Ren… where is that c-coming fro… from?” he stammered.

“I just believe some sort of reward is in order,” Ren said merrily, placing a quick peck on the head, “for finishing your work. But then… you have been overworking yourself, _again_. Having no consideration for your health and wellbeing, _again_. Not to mention that I had to fall asleep alone. I’m in two minds, not sure if I should reward you or punish you.” 

Yusuke’s breath hitched at that, and his cheeks turned a beautiful shade of crimson. He bit on his bottom lip, looking down at Ren’s lips and fingers touching him so intimately, and he trembled as Ren cupped his testicles and massaged there. 

“What do you think, Yusuke?” Ren asked, giving him a single, long lick. “You deserve to be rewarded or chastised?” 

The artist looked away, and Ren of all people knew that he is not just putting up a show. He really was quite coy. 

“I… well. I guess a little bit of both…?” He answered in a shy whisper.

Ren laughed melodically.

“Aren’t you needy, today,” he said with a smile, giving his length a decisive, deliberate stroke. 

“Aren’t I needy in general?” Yusuke hissed as a shudder went through him. Ren chuckled.

“I love that about you. Very well, we will start with the rewarding part.” Ren braced himself on his elbows with a devilish smirk and lowered himself down, gulping Yusuke’s length expertly in one go, down to the hilt. 

The artist cried out, arching his back off of the mattress, his hands tightening compulsively in Ren’s hair as he suddenly found himself hitting the back of Ren’s throat. As his partner withdrew a little and started to swirl his tongue around him, Yusuke slowly fell down on the pillows, a long sigh tearing itself out of his lungs. 

“Oh my God, Ren...” he moaned, tossing his head on the pillow. Ren didn’t give him much time to recover, sucking hard after just a small while of teasing. He fondled his quickly tightening scrotum with the right hand, while the left located itself on Yusuke’s hip to keep him from bucking.

Yusuke was a sensitive creature. Ren could spend an eternity learning about all of the little things he liked; small patches of skin which were more sensitive than others, certain places he always wanted to be touched when they made love, and other areas which he consciously shielded, sometimes even from view. The exact amount of pressure he responded best to, and the perfect tempo to apply to reduce him to a sweaty, panting mess. Ren took pride in being a good student of Yusuke’s body, but there was still so much to cover, so much room to improve; Ren wanted to be able to play him like an instrument, one day. 

This being said, it was more of Ren’s ambition than any explicit demand. Yusuke wasn’t fussy. He gratefully took all and any affection extended his way, be it skillful, attentive, prolonged lovemaking or just a fleeting touch of hands at the breakfast table - he drank it all like a man dying of thirst. Ren knew that this was part and parcel of who he was; despite being so deprived of touch all of his life and in a desperate need of it, Yusuke would very rarely allow others to touch him at all. With a few exceptions of a couple of pushy ex-Phantom Thieves, whom he saw rather seldom these days, and obviously, Ren. 

So every single touch counted. Every move held meaning. Every caress was a means to instill comfort and sense of belonging. And even though Ren knew that Yusuke is going to be genuinely happy about their sex, no matter if it’s stellar or not, he aspired to give him everything. And he absolutely loved to watch Yusuke cum. 

His collected, calm and delicate demeanor would crumble into a raw, trembling, surprisingly vocal mess; his limbs would twitch, his whole body shudder uncontrollably, hands grab at the closest object and _pull_. His chest would heave as if in pain, a shout would freeze on his elegant features and more often than not, especially if he had a powerful orgasm, there would be tears afterwards. A little shocked, a little shy, grateful tears of joy at someone making love to him. Yusuke was so vulnerable when he unraveled; Ren would never tire of seeing it, and he wanted to make sure his boyfriend gets as much happiness from their intimacy as possible, to make up for all the years of abuse and neglect. 

Ren bobbed his head along Yusuke’s length, making sure to lap his tongue each time at the sensitive slit and to put some pressure at the frenulum as he went. Yusuke responded in a series of breathy moans; he was becoming louder, what meant he is inching closer to release. Ren reached out with both hands to scrape his nails along the sides of his torso and give due attention to his nipples again. Yusuke jumped underneath him at the rougher flick of the thumb, giving out a mewl of pleasure. 

“Please… please, Ren…” he tossed his head on the pillow.

Smirking around his length, Ren looked up. Yusuke was splayed on the mattress in abandon, too tired to struggle, and yet tense as a bowstring. His eyes were closed, and his breath came in short, frequent gasps; he was ready. 

Ren locked both hands at Yusuke’s waist and holding fast, picked up the pace. He slacked his throat as much as possible to allow room for Yusuke’s length and kept his breathing under control to fight the gag reflex; a couple of minutes of this and the artist was reduced to low, breathy moans and bit-back cries, and his thighs went up as if he wanted to clamp them on both sides of Ren’s head. He tugged at the black mop of unruly locks with both of his shaking hands, the whole of his body curled upwards, shoulders coming together, and a loud, keening sound escaped him, which served as a clue that in just a while, just a second…

...and he came down Ren’s throat, his member pulsating and twitching as Ren diligently swallowed around him. Yusuke shook as if in fever, and only stayed put because of a pair of strong hands at his waist had pinned him down to the bed. His knees trembled next to Ren’s ears, and he rode the waves of his pleasure without drawing breath, before he jerkily uncurled from his orgasm and collapsed boneless on the pillows.

Ren licked him clean and clambered upwards to gather him up into his arms. Yusuke still trembled. Ren kissed away the faint sheen of sweat from his hairline, then placed two tender kisses on his closed eyelids. 

“I absolutely adore watching you like this.” He murmured, watching the shiver die down slowly.

Yusuke didn’t answer. He was so still now that Ren instinctively had to lean in and check on his breathing. 

He wanted to tell him that he’s perfect; that he looks so beautiful when he comes unglued like that; Ren wanted to say that he will never get enough of it, of him, that he’s safe in his arms, that he will never, ever let anyone hurt him ever again. But words lost their meaning as he swiveled them in his mind, trying to arrange his emotions in rigid frames of sentences. He just gathered Yusuke closer instead, resting his chin on top of his head, allowing him to bury his face in his neck and climb down as slowly as he needed to, lingering in the aftermath for a while longer. 

He stirred soon enough, emerging from his safe headspace into reality again, and raised his affectionate grey eyes at the love of his life. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, his mouth curling upwards into a languid smile. Ren petted his hair fondly.

“Was it any good?” 

Yusuke rolled his eyes. He had no wish to even move. A combination of a labour-intense all-nighter and a horny Amamiya was a potent one.

“My turn, then.” Ren settled Yusuke down on the mattress. “On your stomach.”

Yusuke complied without hesitation; his leaden limbs were moving with difficulty, but he anticipated what was to come with a flutter in his belly. Ren grabbed two fluffy pillows and located them deftly under Yusuke’s hips, so that his ass would stick out. Once he was satisfied, Ren palmed both of his cheeks and spread them a bit, before sliding his hands up, to the small of his back, feeling up the muscles there. As was to be expected, sitting at the easel for almost fourteen hours straight took its toll and the lower back was full of knots.

“Seriously,” Ren muttered, kneading the unresisting flesh underneath his hands. “Yusuke, you really can’t do that. Promise me to exercise a bit today, do some stretching. Your back is one big cramp.”

“I thought you are going to do the stretching for me,” Yusuke cast a glance behind his shoulder. There was a cheeky quality to his voice and Ren immediately felt himself react. 

“Oh, you’re asking for it,” he said, digging his thumb into one of the more severe knots before purposefully draping himself across his lover to reach to the bedside table and retrieve a slim bottle of lube and a condom. Yusuke’s breath hitched at the sight. 

Kneeling at the bed by his side, Ren coated his fingers liberally and positioned his hand at Yusuke’s opening. 

“Relax.”

“I am,” the painter breathed, closing his eyes in anticipation. 

Ren’s brows knit together in fond appreciation. He circled gently, allowing the gel to get a bit warmer on the skin, teasing the puckered opening with the pad of his finger; finally he pushed one finger inside. Yusuke took a deeper breath, but showed no signs of discomfort above that, so Ren continued seamlessly, probing gradually deeper, pushing in and out several times before slowly joining in with a second. There was still no resistance, as Ren happily noted; post-orgasm Yusuke was soft and ready for him. But Ren wanted to prolong it for a while.

Curling his fingers, Ren aimed for that one spot inside him and nudged it purposefully, immediately feeling Yusuke clench around his fingers and go stiff with a gasp of surprised, intense pleasure. Still a bit oversensitive, he made a feeble attempt to get away from the seeking fingers he was impaled on, but Ren pressed his other hand down to the small of his back, keeping him in place. 

“Relax... Give in to me.” He whispered, and it was more Joker than Ren at this point. Yusuke moaned quietly and fisted his hand into the bedsheet, surrendering to the sweet torment.

Mercifully omitting the sweet spot for now, Ren kept exploring with his fingers until he felt Yusuke relax again, what gave him a cue that he can carry on. He scissored for a while, then withdrew and returned with three digits, pushing forward with intent. 

Yusuke shuddered and hid his face in the pillow to muffle a shout. His slender form was twitching, long legs getting restless on top of the covers. Ren exhaled loudly in arousal, marvelling at all the little sounds he made, moving his left hand in long strokes up and down Yusuke’s back to calm him down, like he would pet a skittish horse; he observed the lean back raise visibly and the slim ribcage expand as Yusuke took deep, intermittent breaths, trying to prepare himself. After a while his hips started moving back and forth slightly as he tried to coax Ren to move again and push deeper; Ren kissed his shoulder affectionately and got back to business.

Three fingers spread wide, forcing the soft walls to expand a bit, and then Ren went on to good old finger-fucking, using sharp, quick, purposeful thrusts. He started to hit Yusuke’s prostate again, and the artist all but trashed in Ren’s hands, his feet going up in the air involuntarily. Ren shifted his position to a sitting one, directly on top of his thighs, pinning him immobile with his weight; he focused his attention on massaging the gland inside him, enjoying how he started to shake his head helplessly and cry out into the pillow louder and louder.

“I want you to take in one more,” Ren rasped out, almost lightheaded with desire. “Do you think you can do it for me?”

Yusuke nodded into the pillow, only trembling harder.

“Do you want to be brave for me?” Ren said, rocking his hand forward instead of thrusting now, trying to reach as deep as possible. Yusuke nodded again, unable to answer. “Do you want to please me? Show me how good you are? Tell me,” Ren demanded.

“I do,” Yusuke wailed. “I can take it, I can do it... I’m yours,” he lifted his head from the damp pillow to catch some air. Ren leaned in again to capture his mouth in a brief kiss.

“Oh, Fox… So good for me, you’re perfect,” Ren cooed, withdrawing his fingers and adding more lubricant. He rolled his fingers quickly to coat them thoroughly, and slowly started to push the four digits inside. Yusuke clenched down at the initial pain of the stretch and Ren stopped immediately, but at more shushing sounds and gentle encouragements Yusuke consciously relaxed his muscles as much as he could, braced himself and urged is partner on. Ren went very slow, pushing in gently, stopping every now and then to massage and spread as he went, until all Yusuke was feeling was pleasure; his vision narrowed to that one moment in time and the whole world stopped turning, losing any sense of importance.

“You’re doing so well… look how well you’re taking it. That’s it...” Ren praised as he finally achieved what he wanted and buried himself to the knuckles. It was intoxicating, looking at the taut ass spread to such extent over Ren’s fingers, with only the thumb left out, curled around his ass cheek. “Such a good Fox... You’re so beautiful.” 

Yusuke swallowed hard, trying to accommodate the stretch and ride the dull ache in his passage, mixing with pleasure at the stimulation of his sweet spot. Ren kept shushing him, helping him to overcome it, and Yusuke focused on his voice and the affection it was channeling; after a little while any discomfort was gone, replaced only by searing heat and a powerful sense of being connected.

Being _his_.

“Lift your face off the pillow.” Ren ordered, keeping the penetrating hand still. Yusuke obeyed, showing him a flushed, slightly tear-streaked profile. 

“What are you supposed to do today?” Ren asked, purposefully rubbing the prostate gland back and forth. 

“A-ah! I’m… suppo-osed to e-exercise,” Yusuke choked out, shutting his eyes. Ren hummed, pleased, and wiggled his fingers again.

“Yes. And?”

“D-do so...ome stretching,” Yusuke answered, feeling the tension soar and then coil in his body, almost ready to snap in a second wave of pleasure. 

“That’s right. What else?”

“T-take care of myself,” Yusuke continued, feeling another rewarding rub. Ren smirked above him devilishly.

“Good. And what else can you do to take care of yourself?” He asked, stroking down Yusuke’s thigh, grabbing his knee and leaning down to pepper small kisses over his left buttock.

“Oh… I…” Yusuke was a little at loss. It was difficult to gather his thoughts in this state. “I… um… I...”

Suddenly a cruel shove in his passage made him shout. 

“I-I will go for a walk!” Yusuke figured on the spot. “A long walk, with no sketchbook. And take a warm bath afterwards. I will remember to eat properly, hydrate… a-and I will c-call Haru,” he moaned, “just to socialize… I won’t work today,” he promised with something akin to a sob.

“Now we’re talking,” Ren muttered sarkily, but in the same time he did place an affectionate, wet kiss Yusuke’s hip, returning to caressing his prostate. Yusuke moaned shamelessly, closer and closer to the edge; Ren sneaked his left hand around Yusuke’s waist to pull him up, so that he stayed on all fours. 

A warm hand wrapped around his member. Ren settled on a steady, well-known rhythm, quickly bringing Yusuke to the brink with well-practised strokes; his eyes fluttered closed, head hung down, he tensed all over. Ren noticed that a bit of drool slipped through the corner of his mouth and fell into the linens in a tiny, translucent thread. He was so close, so close, almost out of it with bliss... 

“You are not allowed to cum until I say so, do you understand?” Joker’s voice cut through his haze like a hot steel rod, and Yusuke swallowed a sob.

“Y-yes…!” he cried out desperately as he felt Ren’s fingers clamp hard at the base of his member to delay his orgasm. 

“Good,” Yusuke heard Joker rasp, “Because we’re not finished here yet.” 

He let go of Yusuke’s leaking length, grabbed his hip to steady him and withdrew the fingers. Yusuke moaned at the loss of contact, feeling his passage walls receding, clenching around nothing. 

“Lie down,” Joker spoke again, an audible strain in his voice. Yusuke obediently flopped down on the bed, wiping the tears and sweat away from his eyes with the already damp fabric. 

Ren pushed Yusuke’s head into the pillow with one hand.

“You might want to bite down on it.” He huffed, and without wasting any more time, ripped the foil and put the condom on. 

Not bothering with any more gel, he positioned himself at Yusuke’s thoroughly prepared entrance. The painter stuck out his ass eagerly, keeping one teary eye at him; once again marvelling at his devotion and trust, Ren sheathed himself deep, glueing himself to his lover’s back, trying to achieve as much skin-to skin contact as physically possible. A lengthy sigh tore from Ren’s lungs; he was so worked up that he could already feel first tingles of his release approaching. 

“This is so that you remember everything you just said,” Joker’s voice whispered to Yusuke’s ear, picking up a fast, powerful rhythm and pounding into the smooth passage. “I’m going to... hold you... to your word. I want you to… to be good to yourself for once,” he panted, dropping his head on Yusuke’s back, supporting his forehead on the nape of his neck. 

“I will, I will,” Yusuke answered, and Ren could hear tears well up in his voice.

“Good… you do that… oh, fuck…” Ren grabbed both Yusuke’s arms, which he held pressed to his sides tensely, and he pinned him down putting all of his weight on them. He angled his thrusts so that every one would strike home; a loud shout, sound of pain mixing with pleasure, was muffled by the sudden bite on the pillow. 

“Holy shit, Yusuke… You’re so good, you feel wonderful...” Ren called out, fucking him into the mattress. Just a second more of this and the accumulated heat somewhere low in his belly exploded with shiny white splashes underneath his eyelids as he came thunderously, shouting his lover’s name _loud_ , never caring about the neighbours; feeling Yusuke shudder underneath him and shake his head erratically in obvious, barely contained need, he moved back quickly, wrenched the pillows away from underneath his pelvis and took his penis in a fist again. 

“You may come now,” he whispered a permission to his ear, pumping him. 

Yusuke all but came apart at the seams, shaking, giving out a wounded sound and covering his face with both hands, shooting his seed all over Ren’s palm and the bedsheet as he came for the second time.

They curled together on the bed, tired, sweaty and utterly spent, weirdly detached from sight or hearing. 

Locked in a tight embrace they just rested, both panting, still connected, trying to gather their shattered senses enough to make sense of their surroundings again. Staying very quiet, they listened to the frantic heartbeats slowly calming down, rapid breaths decreasing in intensity, focusing on minute sensations of tears or drops of sweat trickling down their skin in tiny rivulets. 

Finally, after a small eternity had passed, Ren stirred. 

Murmuring soft, endearing noises, he very gently slipped out of his partner, let go of his softened member and reached behind to the nightstand to retrieve hygienic wipes. He wiped his hand and Yusuke’s stomach clean, watching his face as he went about it. He was completely still, his features slack and passive, eyes unseeing and locked on something unspecified somewhere in the faraway corner of the room. Only the heaving of his chest betrayed his exhaustion. Ren discarded the condom and tended to himself quickly.

Yusuke remained limp as a rag doll when Ren went about wiping down his cleft and inner thighs. The messy side of sex used to bother him in the past, so Ren always took extra care to make him feel comfortable. 

He snuggled to his boyfriend’s back and propped himself on his elbow to hover above him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, still a little out of breath. He brushed the bangs out of Yusuke’s face with one hand to be able to see him better; he noticed that the painter’s eyes focused finally, hearing a question.

“Yes,” he whispered with a small sniffle, giving out a tired, but a very beautiful smile. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Quite sure,” Yusuke mumbled, making an effort to look at Ren. 

“I made it pretty intense.” Ren nuzzled Yusuke’s jaw just underneath the ear and took his time to kiss all of his tears away. “Talk to me, please. Was there any pain? How are you feeling in your head now?” Ren inquired patiently.

“There was no real pain, don’t worry,” Yusuke said, catching Ren’s hand in his. “Just the slight ache when stretching. It was a lot to take, but not unfamiliar and certainly not painful. And you guided me through it expertly… I felt safe,” the artist snuggled closer. “I took four,” he smiled again, a bit playfully, allowing himself a moment of triumph.

“You did,” Ren praised, kissing him fondly. “It was great. I am proud of you.”

“Was it good for you too?”

“Are you kidding? I’m going to be working all day with a hard-on,” Ren laughed, reaching with his left hand to grip Yusuke’s hipbone and pull him closer. “Just a thought of it… you have no idea what you do to me.” Ren peppered little kisses on his shoulder.

Yusuke smiled at the sensation, closing his eyes tiredly.

“And the sex itself?” Ren kept asking, adamant on making sure Yusuke is not hiding anything. “It was a bit on the rougher side. Did it still feel good?”

“Yes,” Yusuke moaned, bringing Ren’s hand to his mouth and kissing every digit. “You know I like it when you get so possessive. I… I love it when you show Joker to me.” He smiled, and Ren snickered too. Yusuke kept kissing and nuzzling his palm.

“How’s your head now?” He asked after a little while.

“Quiet,” Yusuke answered, looking over his shoulder with those beautiful, grey eyes. Ren cupped the side of his face.

“Alright. Then tell me why we did it.”

Yusuke sighed in a bit more serious manner and forced his body to move, turning around to face his boyfriend. Ren enveloped him in a hug.

“We did it because I had asked you to chastise me whenever I slip up,” Yusuke said, looking him in the eye. “And I did slip up. I have neglected to take care of myself, repeatedly. So I… I needed a reminder.”

“Yes. Two weeks of spring holiday, and all I see is you working with almost no breaks. Don’t get me wrong, I am really happy that you have time to work on your own projects when not studying, but I noticed you forego meals again, which is a red flag. Your sleep pattern is all over the place. You’re distracted, you keep forgetting little things; your phone, your keys. You do that when you’re stressed out. And… well… your tic is back.” Ren imitated the way Yusuke would move his head in a certain way, just a nervous, quick, short twitch to the right with a following cramp of the shoulder. “It’s like a distress signal. You need to slow down.”

Yusuke nodded with a sad expression; he didn’t think Ren had noticed.

“Kawanabe is not Madarame. You are not obliged to present him with a stack of paintings towards the end of holiday to prove your worth. Those times are over, Yusuke.” Ren raked his fingers through Yusuke’s hair, scratching his scalp lightly. “Is he putting pressure on you?”

“No.” The artist shook his head. “I just don’t want to let him down...”

“So _you_ are putting pressure on yourself. Yusuke, you are _not_ letting him down. You are a student at a prestigious university, you have enough on your plate as it is. Slow. Down.”

“I… you’re right, I… I will talk to him today. Tell him I need a small break.” Yusuke swallowed. “I’m so sorry, Ren.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not about apologizing to me. What’s important is you notice the behaviour and take a moment to understand what’s triggering it.” Yusuke nodded, hiding his face in Ren’s chest. “I am worried about you. I really don’t want you to collapse, like last summer. Remember?”

Yusuke did remember. Due to beginning university classes and all the stress connected with it, he developed anemia in late May and kept fainting for the whole following month during seminars. Takemi had her hands full.

“I know. I do, really. It’s just... It’s harder without Maruki.” Yusuke whispered, not looking up.

Ren sighed and wrapped his arms around him tighter.

“I know. I know. It’s not fair. But… at least he is doing a bit better lately.” Ren kissed the top of Yusuke’s head again. “He seems happier now that he had quit for good and settled in his new life. But there is no rule saying that you cannot just have a chat with him. Not like you would to a therapist, but rather to a friend. I’m thinking… maybe you could just, you know.” Ren shrugged. “Call a cab.”

Yusuke smiled, lost in thought; he looked up. 

“Maybe so.” He said, nodding. “Ren… do you realize how thankful I am that you accept me and my shortcomings?”

“I love you,” Ren breathed, moving to kiss Yusuke deeply, thoroughly, like he should be kissed. “I will always accept you. You mean the world to me.”

A little while of cuddling later Ren disentangled himself gently and got up to pull the soiled pillow covers and the sheet off the bed. Yusuke rolled to the side, so that Ren could pull the sheet out from underneath him, then he curled there comfortably, bringing his knees to his chest. He yawned into the pillow discreetly; not discreetly enough.

“Tired, huh?” Ren asked, bringing a pair of fresh boxer briefs and helping him to put the underwear on. “You need to rest some more. You were totally helpless… And you know how much I loved it, but... it just can’t be like this so often.” He reasoned, leaning in to tuck Yusuke in and cover him up with the fluffy white blanket. The painter smirked. Sometimes he was able to get away with staying up so late solely because Ren was a control freak with a caregiver fetish.

Ren sat down on the bed.

“One of these days… I’m going to make you cum three times in one night.” He said, his eyes going dark with desire again.

“Goodness, Ren! I don’t think it would be physically possible for me, really,” Yusuke laughed, content and cozy under the blanket. “Besides… It’s not like I really always have to, you know. It doesn’t matter how many orgasms I have each time we do it, or if I have one at all... I like this feeling too... to give, to simply be able to facilitate your pleasure.”

Ren sighed, shaking his head. 

“You like to be used, you mean.”

He kissed Yusuke again, then tenderly placed a row of small pecks from his temple down the side of his face, tasting salt on his tongue. Yusuke was flushed red - from the neck to the roots of his hair.

“You are too selfless.” Ren said softly, curling a lock of his hair between his fingers. “Too selfless for your own good.” 

They kissed, and when Ren noticed that Yusuke is getting more and more pliant under his hands again, he got up to let him rest. He grabbed some sweatpants to dress himself. 

“You don’t have anywhere you have to be today, right?” He asked casually. “Take a day just to yourself. Sleep in. Okay?”

“I promise I will. I really only have to contact Kawanabe… there is some sort of meeting next week he wants me to attend. I’ll tell him about the finished painting, too, but I can do it later.” Yusuke answered quietly, burrowing deeper into the bed. “I think he might want to add it to the upcoming exhibition in September, as the theme is fitting.”

“Are you happy with how it turned out?” Ren asked, picking up some working clothes for today. 

“Quite.” The artist smiled. “In my humble opinion the color spectrum is, well... rather lovely.”

“Oh, I agree. I developed a liking to purples and pinks, all of a sudden.” Ren smirked.

“Did you now?” Yusuke chuckled.

“Yup. You were walking covered in lilac paint for two weeks now. It was bound to grow on me.” 

As his bag was packed, Ren sat down on the edge of the bed again. Yusuke allowed him to scoop him up and hug the air out of him one more time; he moved to hide his face in the crook of Ren’s neck. He nuzzled there for a while, enjoying how his boyfriend’s body formed a sturdy barrier between him and the rest of the world. Ren kept trailing his fingers across his back with featherlight pressure, drawing tangled lines and patterns. Yusuke lost himself in the tingling, soothing sensation.

“Can you give my regards to Sakura-san when you see him?” He asked quietly. “I miss him. And the Sayuri.”

“I’ll tell him. We should both go visit, you know? Like, really visit, to be able to catch up properly, have some decent coffee and indulge Futaba a little. I wonder what this little gremlin is up to.”

“Me too.” Yusuke smiled. “She’s doing so well, though. With school and other things. Her resolve is hardening each day, she keeps texting me, sharing school stuff, sending memes and making fun of the teachers.” He smiled into Ren’s clavicle.

Ren hummed languidly in response and kissed the top of Yusuke’s head, inhaling his scent deep into his lungs. He felt so reluctant to let him go now, pleasant post-climax buzz still filling his body; he didn’t want to leave their little haven of an apartment, put on all of the winter clothes they couldn’t yet discard due to the awfully cold weather this March, to commute in the subway like a sardine in a can. Oh well. No choice in the matter.

“How are you feeling?” He focused on Yusuke instead. “Is everything okay?”

Yusuke hummed happily. 

“All good,” he said, his hands resting on Ren’s chest to be able to feel the heartbeat. “Getting sleepy now.”

“Okay. I’ll go about that breakfast. Do you want me to bring you some to bed or are you just going to sleep a bit more?” 

“Sleep,” Yusuke slid down his chest to mutter into Ren’s breastbone. “You have absolutely ruined me.”

“You better rest up then,” Ren said with a straight face and moved to stand. “Because I am going to make a mess out of you again in the evening. Your paintings will not be the only ones to benefit from the spring break.” Ren smirked, kissed his temple and lowered him down gently. 

The artist reached up impulsively, clawing at his shirt.

“Wait,” he said. “I just… It’s silly. But I had...” 

“Hm?”

“...I had this very weird feeling just now that something bad is going to happen,” he whispered. “Please, be careful. Text me often. Please.” 

Ren huffed out a smile. 

“I am about to do a shift in a run-down cafe, I’m not going to war,” he said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Ha-ha,” Yusuke rolled his eyes, not really angry. Ren pecked him on the cheek fleetingly and let him go, so he could settle back into the sleeping position. “But… I am serious, Ren. Just be careful on the street and the like. Please.”

“Okay. I promise. I’ll keep my eyes open.” Ren smoothed the blanket over him. “Now get some rest. I’ll see you in the evening.”

“Have a good day,” Yusuke murmured with his mouth in the pillow. “Bye.” 

“Later,” Ren murmured, grabbed his prepared bag and left the bedroom quietly, stealing one last glance at his beloved artist. 

**~*~**

He knew something wasn’t right the second he left the train.

It wasn’t just the fact that he was high-strung, actively looking for a trap and expecting things to get heated eventually. He could swear someone is watching him. He wasn’t afraid of the police; in fact, he would have better luck to realize his plan if he just went straight to the precinct and turn himself in than try to undertake something on his own. He couldn’t be sure though if that’s his absolutely best strategy, having such limited access to the news and the Internet for the past two years. He needed information first and foremost. 

He brushed his longish, black hair out of his eyes and pulled the hood over his head. He made sure to choose a hoodie that was a size too big, to conceal his posture and settle low over his face to hide it. Balling his hands into fists in the deep pockets of his patched-up, raddled leather jacket that he wore on top, he walked briskly out of the underground passage and settled for finding the closest spot to be able to use the web.

He noticed a small kiosk, perched on the far edge of the crowded pavement. Good enough for starters, he thought. He browsed through the titles of the newspapers, absorbing the news items and making mental notes, starting from the politics section. A scandal during a session of the House of Representatives. An uncovered romance of the Minister of Foreign Affairs with a Canadian actress. Raising the appointed age of retirement. New bill proposed by the Fisheries Agency. A visit of the Prime Minister of France postponed till July. Irrelevant, all of it. He skimmed other sections, lingering briefly on tabloids and trying to gather the current focus of the public, finally bought a popular music magazine and a pack of cigarettes and moved on. 

He knew that the person tailing him will check.

Listening for a while to the news broadcasted on a huge telebim, he caught a chance to hide in the crowd and determine the man following him. He looked perfectly ordinary, without a single distinctive feature that would prompt him who the hell that was. No scar, no decent haircut, no fashionable clothing item. No clue. 

Not the police, though. Shido’s goons would be a safer bet. But he didn’t look like one of those either. 

He needed to lose him. 

Melting into the crowd, he meandered and weaved his way through the shopping district and into another quarter, long enough to shake off the feeling of being watched. Hiding in a back alley behind a big block of office buildings, he finally saw the man pass him by, his step and demeanor perfectly calm, going on ahead with his assumed trajectory to try and tail him further. He dove back to the subway, hopped on the first train in an opposite direction. 

He ended up in the university district, where he considered himself unobtrusive enough to use the library on the outskirts of the campus. He could have gone to an internet cafe, but preferred to pose as a student. Flashing a stolen student ID to the receptionist, he went quickly past the doors to choose a computer station with a side view of the window, but secluded enough to allow for some privacy.

Shido. Shido Masayoshi. What has become of that bastard. 

After a couple of articles on generic news sites, dated for about a week or nine days back, he got the gist. Stripped of his rank in the Diet, Shido had paid a huge fine, had been imprisoned briefly before the trial and for a year afterwards. Then an appeal took place and softened his term to yet another fine, a ban from holding any public functions, short period of house arrest due to ‘health issues’ and 3 years of suspended sentence. For fuck’s sake. This was a man who ordered any uncomfortable people and his political competition murdered by the Yakuza.

“But _where is he_ now,” he muttered, trying out another website. “I need to find this piece of shit.” 

A thought occurred to him suddenly. He keyed in “Akechi Goro” very quickly. 

First hit, a police list of missing persons. If you have seen this man, please contact this and that immediately. His own photo, a smiling, pleasant face framed by light brown, mousey hair, impeccable greenish uniform and his usual, striped tie. 

No information about his connection to Shido. Nothing leaked? Nothing? 

He felt like he has spent too much time in here. Cleaned the browser history, grabbed the magazine, threw it on another PC station on his way out. He left hurriedly. Two policemen were patrolling the street; he pulled the hood over his eyes and kept to the other side of the street. He turned right, into a small and green, cozy neighbourhood of standard flats. He moved past the playground and a little grocery shop, where an old geezer was practically dozing off behind the counter.

There was a man, a different man, sitting on a bench with a newspaper. Perfectly inconspicuous man. He locked his eyes with him for a second, scowling above the paper; he _waved_. 

Feeling suddenly cold, he bolted into the subway again. 

He never should have come here.

**~*~**

He ended up in the infamous Sanya. He moved through the backstreets only, trying to mislead whoever it was following him, or get a closer look and determine who the fuck were they working for. He briefly considered going back to his old apartment; if these were Shido’s men, that would certainly catch their attention and force them to act. If not, a second tail would probably appear and maybe he could make these two meet each other. Hopefully take each other out. He abandoned the idea very quickly, though; his flat must have been rented out already, all his assets lost, he would only risk someone recognizing him, like that stupid landlady. He just descended deeper into the derelict districts.

It was getting dark already. He was up and travelling since four, hasn’t eaten anything, and quite frankly he wasn’t getting anywhere, fucking _anywhere_ with this - stealthing aimlessly through the poorest district of Tokyo, trying to escape someone he did not anticipate nor knew anything about. He didn’t even manage to get close to his stash, and he needed to do that, sooner rather than later, and without any witnesses. He had to obtain his gun. It would seem there might be a reason to use it on someone else than daddy dearest, after all.

He saw that first inconspicuous guy again. Almost sick with frustration, he turned away, hid behind a corner and pretended to light a cigarette until the man turned away and walked off into the distance. 

“Gotta light?” 

He turned around, stupidly, and got a hit straight between the eyes. He swayed, his back suddenly met the wall and his cranium gave a sickening thud when bouncing off the concrete; a knee to the stomach followed and he just slid to the ground, winded and wheezing. There were three of them - just junkies, judging from the look of them, but one was big enough and they did catch him by complete surprise. An attempt to struggle and get back on his feet earned him two dirty kicks, one to his groin, the other one to his solar plexus.

“Check the jacket,” he heard and someone patted him down quickly. A pack of cigarettes fell from his pocket, a cheap phone was taken away in an instant. They were looking for a wallet, but curled as he was the access was hindered; a hit to his jaw sent him sprawled on the pavement. 

“Rokuro Fujita, huh?” one of the junkies leered, reading his fake ID. “Aren’t you loaded. Lucky for you,” he barked and stood up, “Let’s go. Now.”

He felt someone push him onto his stomach with a foot and grab at his jacket.

“What the fuck are you doing?! We gotta go,” a voice on his left spoke.

“I want this too,” the other man answered, pulling the garment off of him. “I like it.” 

He heard retreating footsteps resonating on the pavement, registered the smelly muck of the dirty asphalt under his cheek and a vicious chill creeping up at him from the hip, where he was laying in a puddle. The world went black for a moment.

**~*~**

Fuck. Fuck. 

Fuck.

He had at least enough sanity to stay put until he was sure that he doesn’t have a concussion. There was no saying how much time passed, though. It was cold; really cold, as if the temperature dropped below zero, like it would in the night. He sat up with his back at the wall, shivering in the oversized hoodie and trying to figure out if he has any broken bones. He didn’t. He wiped the blood out of his face with a sleeve.

After an alarmingly long time he managed to get up without his vision swimming. He glanced briefly at the alley he came from, not entirely deserted now but significantly less crowded and much quieter. There was his wallet, tossed away in a hurry. It was empty and soaked through from laying in a puddle for so long; he didn’t have any cards there in the first place, but everything else, even the ID got taken away. He swore under his breath. Why would they take a fucking identification card?

Shit.

The only good that came out of this situation was that the junkie asshole who assaulted him had his jacket now. And a similar grey hoodie underneath. He had to get out of here, move to another neighborhood, preferably on the other end of the city; steal something else to wear. 

He noticed a homeless guy on the other side of the street. Unwilling to stay in the open any longer than absolutely necessary, he dived into the dark of the scaffolding and crossed the street quickly, snatching away a plastic cup with some change that he had on him. He felt bad about it, briefly. But he needed a train fare. 

Sudden wave of nausea so strong that it swept him off his feet engulfed him, and he fell on his knees, retching dryly; there was nothing in his stomach to come up, anyway. He felt the cold sweat form on his forehead; he didn’t have time for this, he couldn’t stay here, he had to go. Forcing his body to cooperate, he pushed himself up and swaying badly, stumbled down the street, trying to overcome the long walk into the moldy underground Minowa station and into the platform, for what seemed like a hundredth time this day. He hid from the view of the train attendant, pulling the hood over his head again. He glanced at the timetable of the Hibiya line to Ginza. 3:35. He had to wait a couple of minutes. 

Leaning on the concrete pillar, he forced himself to breathe deeply. Calm down. Think. At least it’s a bit warmer here, no wind. Think. His ribs hurt on the left side. He couldn’t really hear the upcoming train properly. Was there anyone on the station that could spot him? Think. 

He tumbled into the train, still packed at this hour. He didn’t sit down, hiding at the back of the compartment. People turned away from him in disgust as he walked by; the swelling on his face must have become visible, and his dirty and muddied clothes told a tale. But as long as people turned away rather than stared, he was fine with it.

He hid his face from view. Staring into the window of a fast-moving train and trying to focus his thoughts at something else than the motion sickness creeping up on him, he realized he is thinking that he will need to change trains in Shibuya. 

Maybe he was concussed, after all.

**~*~**

The streets were quiet, empty and comfortingly familiar. He had no idea what came over him, but passing by the same poor shops, the same lamplights, the same overgrown fences and colorful doors made him feel somewhat calmer. As if there was a destination he really had in mind. There was no sense in this; no point. The cleanly dressed high school student with a plan was no more. His rival was probably not there, either. This was all idiotic.

But he knew he has to move and in the end it didn’t really matter where. 

He stopped looking behind a while ago. He had lost his tail. Good. He couldn’t achieve anything else, but at least he was alone again.

That little alley didn’t change. Nor did the window above the cafe, or a sign at the door, or the red-and-white awning with the name of the place. The inside was empty and dark, the window above was closed; no light in the attic. What did he even imagine...?

It didn’t matter. It was just a place. Not better, not worse than any other. 

It didn’t matter at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone feels like talking fandoms or discussing writing fics, @GreyPigeon4 is my twitter. I know now how to answer DMs, but other than that don't expect me to know how it works :)


	6. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a shift in LeBlanc, Amamiya-kun finds someone at the doorstep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: a lot of medical babble (someone advised me to go with my kinks) and flooooof. Also, almost-a-fistfight
> 
> Author's Notes:  
> 1\. I AM SORRY it took so long, I've been working a lot these days and just couldn't physically find the time :/ But it's long this time to make up for it!  
> 2\. Thanks to Armae for giving me this comment about cold-warm juxtaposition which I have taken to new levels here XD and for some info about Japan, which helped me to write this part. You've been very kind!  
> 3\. I have, again, done some extensive and fasinating discussion about characterization in Persona 5, cultural background and Japanese society as a whole with my absolute guru chuusei_teki_na_koe, and I sincerely wanted to say thank you for teaching me, senpai!
> 
> And, I have a request. It was brought to my attention that my writing is weirdly British (XDD), stilted as fuk and scattered with grammar mistakes, with which... I sadly agree. If anyone is bored out there and would like to proofread or beta this fic, I would literally jump out of my socks with glee. This story means too much to me, I don't want to leave it half-assed...

**~*~**

  
“That would be all of it,” Sōjirō sighed tiredly, putting the last paper bag full of groceries on the counter. Ren trotted behind him with a cardboard box full of ingredients, closed the door with a nudge of his foot, circled the bar and started unpacking. “Thanks for your help today, kid. My back is not the same.”

“No problem,” Ren smiled, starting to arrange packs of tomato puree on the shelving in the small kitchen. “You know I’ll never say no to a shift at Leblanc.” 

“I know, I know. Frankly, it worries me,” Sōjirō sighed, scratching the back of his head with one hand. “You should be thinking about college instead of working three jobs at once.”

Ren rolled his eyes.

“I need to save up enough first,” he said, shaking his head. “We have been at it a hundred times before, Sōjirō; one more year of this and I will be able to enroll to a decent college, pay for it upfront, not worry about rent or utilities and have something on the side. I will go to college and keep only one part-time job. Next year, I promise.” 

“You said ‘next year’ last year,” Boss said, sitting down at the bar.

“I know, Sōjirō. But I’m not exactly earning as much as I would want to. I’m just a waiter.”

“You don’t have to be just a waiter.” Sōjirō leaned in over the counter. “There is a lot of opportunities for you, there are so many people whom you had helped, they are more than willing to vouch for you or offer you a decent job. Yoshida-san, for example. Hadn’t he said he could get you an internship if you wanted?”

Ren shut the small cupboard with maybe a bit more force than necessary. He groaned, embarrassed, and moved immediately to unpack the cleaning supplies and stuff them into the cabinet under the sink.

“Well?” Sōjirō wouldn’t relent. 

“I don’t want to call in such favours.” 

“Did you ever consider that it might be taken as rude?” Sōjirō said somberly. “Turning down everyone who extends a helping hand?”

Ren’s hands stopped moving and arranging the bottles and boxes of cleaning aides in the wicker basket, and his whole frame hunched down. An unspoken, but clear burden of shame weighed down his shoulders. Sōjirō felt a sting of guilt at being so harsh and direct; he came to the rescue with a more soothing tone, dismissing him from giving an answer.

“If you really need to do this on your own, that’s fine. But you should at least ask for a letter of recommendation from Sae-san.”

“...I shouldn’t even need it, I was thoroughly acquitted. Basic google search can show that. If an employer isn’t willing to do a bare minimum, it’s not a good employer and I should turn elsewhere.” Ren gritted his teeth, still kneeling on the floor.

“How many job interviews went south because of this?” Sōjirō tried to reason. “How many places which you have seriously considered? 

Ren stood up finally and fumbled with the exact positions of bottles of olive oil on the shelf above his head, with his back carefully turned to Sōjirō. His shoulders heaved in a tired sigh; he should have known Boss was not about to let it go.

“Many,” he acquiesced quietly.

“...Yusuke said he can help you,” Boss suggested calmly.

“I’m not taking any of his money,” Ren turned away immediately, lifting a bag of rice and putting it into the cabinet too. “He has worked too hard on it. It’s enough that he covers two thirds of rent.”

“Do not let yourself be too aloof, okay, kid? He genuinely wants to help,” Sōjirō said seriously.

“I know! I appreciate it, but it’s his money and it should stay so,” Ren said in a tone of voice that excluded further discussion. He sighed after a while though, seeing genuine concern on Sōjirō’s face, and added in a quieter tone: “Come on, Boss. He’s been struggling all his life. He could never afford anything he truly wanted to have. Now that he has finally started selling his paintings for a decent price, he should indulge himself or save it up. I will get there on my own,” he looked over to where the old man was sitting, “even if it takes me longer. It’s no big deal, really. Besides, I haven’t decided what is it that I want to do, anyway...”

“It’s about time,” Sōjirō scoffed. “Futaba is more decisive than you, I swear.” 

“Futaba is thoroughly exceptional,” Ren smirked sadly. 

He unpacked the rest of the bags, then started sorting through spices and putting them neatly into their respective jars, trying to stall for time. Once the counters were clear, he nudged the can with Sōjirō’s favourite beans in a silent question, and the man nodded in response. Ren started the coffee and leaned on the counter, eyes avoidant.

“How’s your blood pressure, old man?” He asked.

“Mind your own business,” Sōjirō muttered grumpily.

“You quit smoking yet?”

“Get your nose out of my affairs!”

“You can poke around my affairs freely, while I am not allowed even to express genuine, familial concern…?” Ren put a hand over his heart. “...I’m hurt.”

“Okay, I get it, I get it,” Sōjirō scoffed. “Look, I’m just worried about you. It’s been over a year, and you’re just saving, stalling and playing househusband. I get that it’s difficult without your parents to support you...”

“... _playing househusband_...?”

“...but you should be more motivated, Ren! You’re a bright kid! I think you should take Yusuke up on his offer and invest in yourself. Get an education. Or at least let him and me split the cost and get you started.”

“No way. You have Futaba to support. She’s not gonna be cheap, you know? Her mind is that of a genius,” Ren lifted one finger up, “and it costs to upkeep a genius.”

Sōjirō did not look impressed.

“For all I know, she’s earning more than I am right now, she’s all about stock market and cryptocurrencies as of late,” he said with cold disinterest that did not befit that sentence. “Whatever she needs money for, now or in the future, she’s probably secured it already. She could easily make you some on the side, you know. Since you absolutely hate the concept of owing someone a favour in real life, maybe this solution...”

“Sōjirō, you are aware that whatever it is she does, it may just as well be illegal?” Ren interrupted him with a bit of amusement.

“...and you are bothered with it since when?” Sōjirō sniped right back.

Hah. Sure. He hadn’t been bothered in the slightest as a Phantom Thief, as Joker. Now, though... he was just a loser with three dead-end jobs and a social stigma.

“You won’t take help from your boyfriend, you won’t take help from your sister, I can vaguely get why, but I am your guardian. Accept mine. I have money to spare.”

“...Spare it for nicotine plasters, or hypnosis or whatever else works, and quit the smokes. It unnerves me to no end, and you’re only making your heart worse.” Ren moved to serve the fresh coffee, to himself in an accidental white cup, to Sōjirō in a hand-painted mug that he got from Futaba last year. For Father’s Day. “Think about yourself. Think of what’s important. We would really rather you stuck around, you know.”

Sōjirō looked like he was about to scold him, but apparently decided against it, looking at that silly mug with white moustache and a bowtie on a navy background. He shook his head, saying nothing, and they shared some time of uncomfortable silence, in which Ren was visibly brooding. 

Boss took the mug in both hands. He could feel the warmth seeping through the thick porcelain, warming his skin. The blue moustache felt slightly thicker under the pad of his finger with an uneven, messy layer of paint.

“How are your parents, though…?” He asked quietly in a much, much gentler tone, as he knew Ren tended to be skittish about it.

Ren just kept rolling a small, profiled spoon between his fingers and staring into his coffee.

“...No idea,” he answered finally with some effort. 

“What? They haven’t been in touch since graduation?!”

“Hey. To their credit, they did send me a nice postcard,” Ren mocked, taking a sip. 

Sōjirō bridled, braced himself on the counter. 

“Have they cut you off, too?” No answer. “Ren, have you received any paycheck from them?”

“Boss, you’re giving me a headache. And it’s not even noon yet,” Ren stubbornly refused to look at Sōjirō. 

“Keep it up and I will give you more than a headache!” Sōjirō scoffed, flabbergasted. “Why didn’t you even tell me…? I would have done something about it! Called them, talked some sense into them! Ren, it’s too early to give up on yourself!”

“I’m not. Boss, I promised, remember? So I _will_ go to college. I simply cannot afford it just yet. I will get there, though, don’t worry, I’ll pick a decent major, something that will get me through life, and I will do my best. Please, allow me to handle it myself,” he kept talking, hoping he is convincing Sōjirō - if only just a bit. Buying time. Fighting against a bile in his throat, which he could so clearly recognize. 

Disappointment. 

He was sure that Sōjirō must be disappointed in him.

**~*~**

Even though he had moved a while ago, LeBlanc still felt more like home than anywhere else. 

Ren knew the cafe like the back of his own hand; the old washing machine that needed a special shove to get going, the rotten step in the cellar stairs he had to skip not to land on his bum, the exact recipe for the house blend - in precise quantities down to a single bean - and the most fitting wording he should use to make the usual customers smile from ear to ear. He was in his element and he felt a pleasant hum of self-satisfaction behind his sternum at the effortless flow he had achieved this morning. 

It was a very quiet, predictable morning; Ren has learnt to appreciate predictable. 

He meditated in movement, going about the familiar tasks and chores, arranging the stock in the cellar, refilling the bean cans and slicing vegetables for a fresh batch of curry. It was all familiar, and yet still slightly weird, to be on the other side of the counter with no Sōjirō around; but he took pride in it. In the trust he placed on him. He couldn’t help but wonder if Boss wasn’t trying to tell him something, making him run the cafe all by himself more and more these last few months. If he wasn’t landing a plan B onto his lap, just in case.

The elderly couple came at their typical hour, a neighbour from the vegetable market stopped by before ten to get his takeaway latte, a couple of other patrons showed up and conversed lively about some recent events in the area. Ren listened with one ear, not quite able to get accustomed to the fact that this is no longer his neighborhood, smirking at all the quips and gossips they exchanged.

Then around lunch he had to quicken up significantly to serve meals to a group of working men on their break, who were doing some emergency repairs two streets away from there and serve some other customers for takeaway; LeBlanc did get a bit more lively with time. Ren could feel a slight sheen of sweat dampening his hairline as he handed out lattes and mochas, then cashed everything and returned to the kitchen for some more side dishes for the workers. There was something oddly satisfying in that mundane job. The men came for a well-earned break from repairing something important - there was a visible, easily accountable effect of their work for everyone out there to see, a fixed hole in the road or hot water flowing through the pipes again - and Ren’s job was to feed them, so they could keep going and finish it on time. Simple. Easy. Necessary. 

Once the workers had eaten, warmed up a bit and had their laughs, LeBlanc fell silent again and Ren started cleaning up the tables. Decent lunch, he thought to himself.

He got a ping on his phone. The cafe was empty, so he glanced at it; a text from Ryuji. **/Renren, you free to talk a sec?/**

He rushed the dirty plates back to the kitchen, wiped the tables to return the cafe to its previous orderly manner and picked up the phone to call him.

 _“Hey man, whatcha up to?”_ he heard in his cell.

“Doing a shift in LeBlanc, you?” 

_“...You’re always working, man. I’m on a quick lunch break, just wanted to let you know that_ _Ann is coming back next week,”_ Ryuji sounded out of breath, as if he was running up the stairs, but Ren knew that this is just barely contained excitement. He grinned to himself. _“She just texted me this morning.”_

“That’s great news,” Ren smiled. “Told you she’s bound to be back after spring break! So, we happy?

 _“We happy,”_ Ryuji answered. _“Do you want to go to the airport with me to greet her when she arrives? And Yusuke too?”_

“I’m totally up to it. And I think Yusuke would love that,” Ren said, “I’ll text him straight away. He should be free, unless Kawanabe hogs him again for an interview or something.”

 _“Ugh. He hates this, why Kawanabe keeps forcing him to do that? His paintings sell alright, he doesn’t need this petty shit,”_ Ren could clearly see his friends’ face grimacing into his cell. _“Anyway, we should all go. You know, the original squad. Back together.”_

“The original squad, huh?” Ren laughed, suddenly lost in thought. “I like the sound of that... I’ll stop by Haru’s place then to pick Morgana up, he will be dying to see Ann. By the way, when are you gonna tell her?”

There was a moment of silence at the other end of the line. 

_“...I don’t know man, this shit ain’t that easy now,”_ Ryuji’s voice was hesitant. _“She’s accomplished now, man. Recognizable. She did a stunt for Vogue, even I know what that is. I, uh... I don’t think she would even be interested.”_

“Grow a pair, Ryuji,” Ren shook his head and leaned on the counter. He propped the glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’ve been pining for a year now. And she has never stopped texting you. Or Skyping with you, or sending you photos, e-mails, she’s probably not in touch with her own parents that often. You guys could be a thing.”

_“I haven’t even told her about the track yet. I don’t know.”_

Ryuji’s voice was sullen. When after months of physio he had finally re-entered a sports team and had seriously taken up up running again, an unfortunate contusion very early in the game completely buried his hopes of doing track professionally. His kneecap had been ruined and he was indeed lucky to be able to walk without a limp. It all had resulted in Ryuji going through an uncomfortable, longish and not completely unjustified period of “I fucking hate everything and everybody”, when he had undergone another physio, and then seamlessly proceeded to hit the gym four-five times a week tugging Ren with him to deafen out every feeling and thought with muscle sores. As a result, Ryuji has finished high school with mediocre grades and even more mediocre attitude, having no idea what to do with himself and how to amount to anything.

After a long debate he had settled for a prep course and entered another college in hopes of becoming a physical therapist himself. Ren had supported the shit out of Ryuji; he really felt like this outcome was the best one possible, given the circumstances. Even of Ryuji himself could not make his own dreams happen, he could still help others to do so, or at least help them get back to full health or keep the pain at bay. Ren knew how satisfying and fulfilling that job could prove to be for him. He was sure Ann would feel the same way. Especially if she saw how great he was doing now.

“Why you didn’t tell her is beyond me,” Ren sighed into the receiver. “She’s not going to appreciate being kept in the dark like that, you know.” 

_“Yeeeah… probably.”_

“You are only making this harder for yourself,” Ren muttered, wiping the counter unnecessarily with a rag. It was squeaky clean anyway. “Just get a grip, bring some roses to the airport, by the way keep in mind that I can make a decent bouquet for you entirely free of charge, and tell her how you feel. She’s missing you, she hasn’t seen you in a while, and man, you’re shredded - just throw on a white button-down and go for it, you’re not gonna get a better chance than this,” he pep talked Ryuji with fervour.

 _“I don’t know, maybe… I suppose I should listen to you, girls used to hang down your arms any given time of day,”_ Ryuji laughed, and Ren choked on empty air.

“Did NOT!”

 _“So DID! Hifumi Togo, Haru, Sumire-chan, Chihaya, that reporter, even Miss Kawakami, you picked up the effin’ homeroom teacher, you absolute pick-up artist,”_ Ryuji yelled into the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, louder, Ryuji, why don’t you. Pick up artist! Househusband! You guys are fucking hilarious.” He muttered.

 _“Who called you a househusband?”_ Ren heard a shrill of laughter in his ear.

“...Sōjirō.”

 _“Well, you kind of are one,”_ Ryuji smiled into his phone. _“Working three jobs, cooking and taking care of the house when Yusuke is just... painting his health away. Speaking of, how is he?”_

Ren rolled his eyes at the sudden shift in topic and glanced briefly at the direction of the “Sayuri”. He couldn’t help himself, he smiled unwittingly; a wave of affection came over him as he recalled the image of his boyfriend. Lying limply in the ruffled bedsheets, too fucked out to speak, too tired to resist when Ren would gather him into his arms and make all of the nightmares go away. His calm, beautiful, tired smile as he would watch Ren leave the room.

Ren forced himself to focus.

“The Uni is working him hard, sometimes I think that the amount of assignments they pile up on the students goes against the Geneva convention. His health is frail, but we’ve been managing. And he is so driven... Tries to balance it all, Uni, commissions, public appearances and Kawanabe, Madarame shit that goes down from time to time. It’s too much for one person, you know?”

_“Madarame shit? Something happened again?”_

Ren patted the floor with the tip of his foot, frowning.

“Yeah... He’s been getting worse.” Ren patted the floor with the tip of his foot, frowning. “After that stroke he had last month, the lawyers are trying hard to win a conditional release for him, or at least bargain a change to house arrest; nothing is decided as of yet, but it involves Yusuke too, saps his time and energy, he may be called to appear in court again. There’s all that bureaucracy involved, and I can see it’s wearing him down. Well, in any case... Kawanabe is helping a lot with that. It’s gonna be alright.”

 _“Is Yusuke even okay with seeing that bastard walk?”_ Ryuji’s voice was fuming.

“Not ‘walk’, exactly. He’s not being pardoned or anything. But yeah, Yusuke seems to be more or less fine with it… just apathetic. By now, Madarame is just an old, very sick man. The person that had been a threat is long gone.”

_“Are you guys OK? Everything working out between you?”_

Ren smiled. Good, old Ryuji.

“Yes. Thanks, Ryuji.” 

_“No worries, mate. Okay, um… say hi to him from me and text me later, won't cha? We’ll figure out that airport thing.”_

“Sure. Later,” Ren smiled and tapped his phone to end the call. 

His eyes fell on the delicate painting again, and his thoughts started to swarm. 

_Don’t worry,_ he told her wordlessly, _I’ve got him. I’ll make sure he’s alright. Even if the only thing I can do as of late is washing dishes._

On an impulse, Ren picked up his cell for the second time, snapped a photo of the “Sayuri” and sent it to Yusuke. Just so he could see it, even if not in person, and so that he’d know his mother is safely watching over LeBlanc, as usual. 

Slipping the phone to his pocket, Ren ventured outside for a bit; it was still as cold as it had been in mid-winter, and so he huffed a breath on his palms to warm them up, then stuck them under his armpits. The street was almost empty and an accidental bird pecking on the pavement was his only company. With a small sting in vicinity of his heart Ren realized it will probably be like that until past five o’clock.

He registered that the neighbours had put up some bagged waste and neatly arranged recyclables on the curb, placed in blue and yellow plastic baskets. He recalled that Sōjirō had asked him to do the same, as it was trash pick-up day; also, the entrance was in need of some sweeping and the evergreen plant in a heavy ceramic pot, keeping the chalkboard upright, was sagging sadly, silently praying for attention. Ren was just about watering it, when his phone pinged again. 

Yusuke sent him a photo of Morgana, shamelessly reclining on his lap and demanding belly rubs. There was a slightly blurred hand in the left-side corner of the photo, sliding a plate of crepes his way, a hand clad in a pink sleeve made of delicately knit cashmere; the hand that could only belong to Haru. Ren huffed out a small breath of laughter and typed an exaggerated bunch of hearts, a blushing face and an UwU into the chat, forwarded the photo to Futaba and absentmindedly waved a short hello to some neighbour who bowed at him from the distance. 

Perfectly ordinary. Ren had learned to appreciate days like this. 

Sighing almost imperceptibly, he went back inside to get his jacket and a broom.

**~*~**

Someone - or something - had ruined the nicely arranged bundle of paper waste and cardboard in the small nook behind LeBlanc, where the dumpster was located. It all had been scattered on the pavement and piled up in a crumpled heap behind the bin, as if to cover something. Ren grimaced and his hands tightened on the trash bag he was carrying; who could have had any business going through Sōjirō’s trash, he did not know, but he sure as hell didn’t like it. He was just about to utter some honest opinion about this, but as he shut down the lid of the bin with some force, the heap of cardboard _jumped_. 

It jumped.

Ren stood there for a while, dumbfounded. He thought he has heard something, like a groan or a sigh, so he kept listening for a second; it could be just an animal, but why wasn’t it running away? Should he try to scare it away? If it is a tanuki, or even just a rat, Ren would really prefer not to get bitten by it. Moving closer, he carefully reached with his left hand to lift the top cardboard up, and saw a head of long, greasy, black hair. 

“Hey!” Completely terrified that there is a person in there, curled up on the ground next to the dumpster in this cold, Ren grabbed more of the cardboard to shove it away quickly. “Hey, are you alright? I’ll help you up, come inside for something hot to… to drink...”

Ren’s face fell. He could swear he saw those bony hands somewhere. That sharp jawline. That straight nose and thin lips. Because he did. 

“Holy shit, Goro,” Ren gasped in terror and turned the man by the shoulders to face him. “Goro! can you hear me? Do you recognize me?” Ren shook him slightly, trying to get a reaction. Goro’s eyes opened very slowly and he looked past him, as if he couldn’t even focus; he swallowed with effort, and his head lolled to the side. He kept it upright, but seemed totally out of it, unresponsive and unmoving.

“How long have you been out here in the frost?!” Ren yelled, pushing away all the remaining cardboard, taking in his dirty, disheveled clothing, damp to the touch and too light for the weather. “Goro, talk to me, do you know where you are?!” 

The answer did not come, but Akechi’s eyes finally focused and he just sat there, staring. Straight at Ren. Into his eyes. His face was so pale it was almost translucent, and his chapped lips were of a very ugly shade of blue; he was shivering, but only barely.

 _That’s bad,_ Ren understood suddenly, _he should be shaking, he should be…_

“Shit, shit, shit,” Ren took off his jacket as fast as he could, wrapped it around Goro’s shoulders and pulled the hood over his head. He didn’t try to push his hands into the sleeves, because he was just too stiff, sitting there frozen in one position with his knees brought up to his chest. So he just crossed the sleeves in front of him, trying to bundle him up as best as he could. He had to get him inside and warm him up, do something before it’s too late, before he enters severe hypothermia; Ren hoped he’s not at this stage already. 

“You’re going to stand up now,” he said firmly, raising to his feet. He grabbed him securely, wrapping both hands around his waist and back. “I’m taking you to LeBlanc. You’re gonna be okay now, Goro,” he kept talking, pulling at him, trying to coax him to move. Akechi gave out a loud sound of discomfort at the handling - his muscles were wooden, unwilling to cooperate; his legs were just sticking out, useless, unable to bend or hold his weight; Ren had to prop him up on himself entirely, as he wasn’t able to even stand by himself. Ren considered simply picking him up in a fireman’s carry - he knew he could pull it off. Goro tried to walk, though, and they soon found a stumbling, uncomfortable rhythm. Luckily it wasn’t far. 

Ren kicked LeBlanc’s door open and thanked any deity willing to listen that there were no customers inside. He reached behind to flip the sign, locked the door, and pulled Goro further into the warmth of the cafe. Goro’s legs gave out in front of the stairs and he almost slipped to the floor; Ren just bent down and threw him over his shoulder, then carried him upstairs.

The bed had been made with a couple of blankets and one pillow, just in case Ren ever needed a place to crash. Sōjirō kept this room ready for him and Ren has never been more glad. But the blankets wouldn’t be enough, they needed a duvet; Ren hoped there still is one folded in the plastic cover under the bed, where he had packed it last. He sat Goro up on the edge of the bed, where he just swayed, trying to remain upright and closing his eyes tiredly; Ren hoped he won’t just plop face first on the floor.

Reaching under the bed and pulling the duvet out with as much relief as panic rushing through him, he kept his eyes on Akechi. 

“Goro, stay with me! You can’t fall asleep!” He yelled at him and Akechi’s eyes snapped open. “You have to stay awake, do you understand?!” 

With hasty movements Ren spread the duvet out on the bed anyhow, throwing away the cover. He had to get the damp clothing off of Goro first, or all the efforts to warm him up will be for nothing; going to the shelf, where he still kept some spare working clothes, he grabbed a loose black T-shirt and a worn pair of sweatpants. 

“We need to change you into something dry,” Ren threw the garments on the bed, kneeling down in front of him and trying to peel the winter jacket away. He met resistance. “Goro, do you hear me? This is all cold and damp, we need to take it off. Do you understand me?” 

Akechi’s eyes were still unfocused. His fingers locked themselves on the black sleeves of Ren’s jacket, clinging into the little warmth it gave him; but this was simply not enough, and they were running out of time. 

“Don’t fight me, Akechi, I’m trying to help,” Ren muttered in frustration, prying the cold fingers away from the jacket sleeves. He almost laughed; Goro refused to let go. Because of course he would.

Unable to coax him into cooperation, Ren resulted to force and found out with a sting of worry that Akechi didn’t have the strength to resist. There used to be such a small gap in ability between them - but now it was alarmingly easy to manhandle him out of the jacket and the filthy hoodie. Stealing a glance at his apathetic, spaced-out face Ren forced himself to still his hands, to be as accommodating as possible, talking to him all the time and calmly instructing to move as he was pulling a T-shirt over his head. That accomplished, he took off his wet shoes, then unbuckled his jeans, the fabric unpleasant, cold and stiff with the frost, slid them past his hips and pulled the fleshy knit of the sweatpants up his legs. The socks were soaked through, so he discarded them too. He had no spare ones, so he just grabbed an accidental towel from the shelf and dried both feet off, making sure to pat, not to rub; he could clearly see angry red frostbites forming on the toes.

Akechi still did not say a single word, not even when Ren pulled him up to stand and tugged the sweatpants up his thighs to dress him properly. When he was wrapped up in the duvet and gently pushed to lie on the bed, he just closed his eyes tiredly. Still saying nothing.

“Don’t sleep, Goro, you can’t fall asleep, do you hear me?” Ren kept talking, this time from some distance. He was starting up the small heater, pulling it closer to the bed. 

Goro did not listen. 

He could smell that the heater was on, that something was burning. Warmth was starting to creep into his stiff, sore limbs and it was a feeling welcome enough that he just kept his eyes closed, trying to focus on it as much as possible; warmth instead of the irritating burn in his toes and fingers, the unexplained and vivid pain all over his body and the lurking fear somewhere in the recesses of his mind. Just focus on the warmth… just this feeling, slowly spreading through his frozen bones and rigid muscles. Goro grimaced the second he tried to move; something in his chest was aching weirdly, like there was a huge needle pierced right through it, and each time he drew a breath the sting was intensifying; his head was muddy, confused, his thoughts drifting on and off of what was happening. Where was he again...? And how did he get here? 

He felt that he is being rolled over on his side. His legs were pushed up to his chest, the cover on top shifted momentarily and a hard, muscled body pressed itself to his back, spooned up behind him. Two strong arms wrapped themselves around his torso, one under his neck and over his chest, the other one around his stomach, keeping him in place, sharing tantalizing warmth - so hot that it winded him. Clumsily Goro made to move away, but was roughly pressed to the naked chest behind him in an even tighter embrace.

“Don’t be stupid! You have to warm up, or your heart will stop!”

He recognized the voice. He stilled.

So sleepy. He felt tired, really tired. He just wanted to sleep. 

“Open your eyes,” he was jostled awake suddenly. “Goro, don’t fall asleep. Not yet. Do you hear me? Goro?” A series of pats on his shoulder. “You can’t fall asleep, try to stay awake! Try for me, okay? Stay with me, I have to see you’re awake!”

Suddenly Goro felt something weird. His body started to react in a weird way, a wave of heat engulfed him, but in the same time he was shivering under all of those covers and clothing. He tried to say something, but as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, his teeth chattered, so he just shut up. He tried to push the duvet away, but he was held down and unable to move anyway.

“It’s alright,” he heard. “You're fine, Goro, you’ll get better soon,” someone told him.

The pain intensified. His limbs were shaking now, literally shaking against the forceful embrace. He took a deeper breath and immediately regretted it, as the arrow in his chest stung so bad he could swear there is an open wound there somewhere. He felt hot; so hot, he couldn’t breathe, why was he so hot? His chest muscles clenched, cramped hard and a loud moan escaped him, along with the air ejected roughly from his lungs. 

“Calm down, calm down. You’re gonna be okay. I promise, Goro. I’ve got you.”

Regardless of the nagging voice and insistent hands patting him awake from time to time, he felt like he was only drifting on and off consciousness, and the shaking of his limbs has stifled any other sensation. 

He couldn’t remember what came next.

**~*~**

“Yes. Mhm. Just walk me through it, please.” 

That voice was nervous. 

He was lying alone and there was a heap of soft and warm fabric on top of him. He could still feel his limbs shiver lightly, but not shake anymore. He tried opening his eyes. He succeeded. 

He was surrounded by blankets and linens; there was something warm pressed to his abdomen, seeping warmth into his belly. 

“I’m putting you on speaker. Tell me what to do.”

_“First of all, I need you to listen to his breathing. Can he breathe freely? Is it even or ragged? Fast or slow?”_

Ren moved the duvet slightly away and saw Akechi’s opened, round eyes, looking at him warily. If he hesitated a second, he didn’t make it known; moving his head closer to Akechi’s chest, he listened intently, observing the bony ribcage rise and fall.

He must be talking to a doctor, Akechi concluded. Some woman.

“The breath is sluggish, but even,” Ren passed the verdict finally. “It seems to be with some difficulty. And he is awake now.” 

_“Is he coherent, though?”_

“Can you hear me? Do you know what happened?” Ren turned to Akechi, who just nodded. “Are you in any pain?” Another nod. “He’s coherent. He says he’s in pain,” Ren said in the direction of the phone.

_“That’s normal. He will be, for a while. It will take a few hours for him to get over the shock. Now, listen: his heart didn’t stop, and that is good news; disorientation and lack of response is normal and may continue, so don’t worry about it. I need you to take his heart rate now.”_

“What about temperature?”

_“It’s no use with a home thermometer. It won’t tell you anything. Just focus on the heart rate. Find the pulse point on his neck; put three fingers on it. Don’t use your thumb. Set a timer for a full minute and count the beats.”_

Ren fiddled with his phone, then touched Akechi’s neck in search of the heartbeat and pressed start on the timer when he found it. He was perfectly still and quiet. 

“Sixty-two per minute,” he said finally.

_“...Not good, but not terrible either. Okay. Here’s what you need to do. Dry clothes, conserving warmth. If you have a silver foil blanket, like the one paramedics have, wrap him in that. If you don’t, just regular blankets. Provide a source of heat. Like a hot water bottle.”_

“Done already.”

_“...okay, but keep in mind, you cannot heat him up too quickly - it needs to be gradual, preferably matching the tempo he had lost the heat in. So not very hot water, just warm. Ok? You can put it close to his thighs, on his back, on his nape. Remember, warm, not hot. And cover his head, that will prevent the loss of heat too.”_

“Okay.”

_“After a while, when he is able to tend to himself, give him something warm to drink. Again, not hot. Warm tea or something like that, and sweeten it well, sugar will help. From what I gather, it was not a severe hypothermia, just the sort of a… middle stage, hard to say exactly. So apart from the heart, you just need to watch his kidneys. When he starts peeing normally, you’re safe.”_

Ren muttered a confirmation to the phone, fished out one of Goro’s hands from underneath the cover and inspected the frostbites. Akechi wrenched the hand free, hissing.

_“He needs to stay in a warm place for several hours before you can even dream of going outside. He can sleep if he wants to, but try to keep him hydrated and don’t leave him alone so you can react quickly just in case something happens. He might still be confused, irritated or even hostile; he will be in big discomfort, so be patient. This is serious. I need to see him as soon as I come back.”_

“What about the frostbites?”

 _“Are there any blisters? Is the skin broken, dark, or just red?”_ The voice inquired.

“No wounds or blisters, just redness and swelling. And it’s obviously very painful.”

_“Soaking in warm water will help. If not possible, warm and wet compresses. You can try a salve or an ointment if it’s not anything major and the skin is intact. Wrap up in sterile gauze.”_

“I got it. When will you be back?” 

_“In two days. My flight is late, so I’ll see you Friday first thing in the morning. If you see anything alarming - if he loses consciousness, his heart stops or he can’t breathe, he needs hospital help immediately. There are so many possible health issues involved, this isn’t to be taken lightly. Can you ask him how long was he out there?”_

Ren glanced at Akechi expectantly. He lifted up one finger reluctantly.

“...About 24 hours.” 

The woman sighed into the phone. 

_“I will see you on Friday. Don’t give him any medicine except maybe painkillers. Just employ common sense. And if you’re in trouble, call.”_

“Thank you, Takemi. You’re the best.”

 _“Do me a favour and stay out of trouble,”_ the voice was serious and condescending. _“Call with an update. Bye.”_

Ren put the phone away and grabbed a big, fluffy towel from the shelf. He wrapped it around Akechi’s nape and head. Goro couldn’t help but flinch away from those sickeningly gentle, caring hands. 

“Who was that…?” He asked immediately. Ren moved away, gave him some space.

“Doctor Takemi. She is the one who supplied us with medicines back in the day. She’s alright, we can trust her.” Ren said, standing up from the bed and hovering uncertainly. “Is it okay if I… look, I’ll be back in a second. I’ll bring some more hot water bottles and a tea for you. Just... don’t move, okay? Please, Akechi.” 

Goro did not answer, turning away and closing his eyes. Ren was hesitant to leave, after all Takemi has just specifically told him not to leave him alone, but he was the only person who could actually bring something from downstairs and tend to Goro to make him feel better in the long run, so there was little choice. 

The slow, hesitant steps moved towards the stairs and the distressed wood creaked as Ren pattered down. Only then did Akechi dare to look around the room a little.

He realized he is dressed in Ren’s clothing. The scratched and sore skin on his forehead after he had been hit by the junkies had been disinfected and dressed with a wide stick-on plaster. He was carefully tucked into bed, with a duvet and a blanket on top of him, and a pillow underneath his cheek that smelled like fresh laundry and coffee. The bed, this stupid bed propped by milk crates, was actually quite comfortable. What a joke. So he finally had wound up in Ren’s bed. 

Akechi glanced around. The room hadn’t changed much. The same beaten hardwood, a lot of dust, spiders and more bags with coffee beans than he remembered. Even the desk was occupied with them. 

Star stickers on the ceiling. 

Ren came running up. There was a faint sound of the kettle heating, coming from downstairs; Ren brought a first-aid kit and a bowl of steaming water. Settling all that on the floor, he ripped a couple of dressings open and soaked them in the bowl.

“Give me your hands. We have to tend to this asap, a frostbite can hurt up to three weeks,” he said, reaching for Goro’s palm. Akechi growled at him.

“I can do it myself,” he said, reaching for a compress and wrapping it clumsily around his fingers. It brought some relief; the burn was still there, but the swollen, irritated skin welcomed the treatment.

Ren prepared more gauze and lifted the duvet a bit to wrap his feet. 

“What are you doing?” Akechi demanded. 

“Your feet are worse. You want to be able to walk, or not?” Ren locked his eyes with Akechi’s, hovering over the bed, until Goro broke and looked away. 

Both feet were carefully wrapped in double layer of wet, hot gauze and then in a fluffy towel so as not to soak the linens. The kettle whistled downstairs, so Ren tucked the duvet around him again, ran back down and returned a while later with two more water bottles. These were wrapped in towels for insulation and pressed to the back of Goro’s neck and under his knees. 

“The tea is cooling,” Ren told him. “I’ll bring it in a minute. Are you feeling any better?”

Goro sighed. 

“Yes. Thank you,” he said finally.

“Can we... talk for a bit?” Ren asked hesitantly, sitting on the bed beside him. Akechi was lying with his back turned to him, and he tried to burrow deeper, as if to avoid the intense look boring into his back. “Goro?”

“...What.”

“What happened…?”

Ren’s voice was concerned. No shade of irritation, no anger, no accuation, no ‘you’re alive!’, no touchy-feely hands on his shoulder, trying to coax an answer or show affection. Just concern. And patient expectation.

“How come I find you in this state at the back of LeBlanc?” Ren rephrased after a while. Goro shifted slightly, uttered another uncomfortable sigh.

“I got mugged,” he said finally, making no effort to turn around to face him. “I lost my belongings. Money. ID. And my jacket. Of all the things that could have happened, I had to get mugged. I... failed to prepare for it,” an irritated sigh followed. 

Ren bit his lip, digesting that information. 

“And… you’ve come back just like that, out of the blue? Why did you come back to Tokyo?” he asked slowly. “It’s dangerous for you. You may be considered ‘missing’, but there are still people cleaning after Shido who are aware of your existence.”

“It’s because of Shido that I’m here,” Akechi clenched his teeth and both his fists, which he immediately regretted and let go with a hiss. “They got him released. After everything he has done, that bastard walked. I won’t… I can’t let that happen.”

Ren didn’t respond to that; he leaned in to take a look at his hands instead, but Akechi wouldn’t let him. So he settled back on the edge of the bed with a resigned expression. 

“So you _had_ a plan. What went wrong?”

“I got a tail,” Akechi said irritably. “As soon as the main station. I was forced to run around the city like an idiot trying to lose them. Then a couple of junkies robbed me and took my fucking jacket.” Anger welled up in him again at a mere thought of it. Such a trivial thing, such an obnoxious obstacle. He got fucking mugged.

“Was it the police?” Ren asked. Akechi shook his head with a snort. “Shido’s men?”

Akechi was silent for a while.

“...I doubt it.” 

“Then who?” Ren was visibly startled. He stared at the heap of duvet and blankets, which made an irritated “tch” sound.

“I… Well, I have no idea.” Goro said eventually. 

The air was thick between them. There was a million questions Ren wanted to ask, but was afraid to voice them. _Why didn’t you call? What was happening to you? Had you gone into hiding? What kind of plan did you hatch? Do you want my help with it? Why did you come to LeBlanc...?_

_Why didn’t you tell me you’re alive?_

“I’ll bring you some tea,” Ren said only, in a weirdly distant tone. He rose to his feet and slowly went downstairs, not looking at Akechi. 

Goro grimaced, throwing a look over his shoulder. That’s it? Mere facts? 

Not that he was complaining at being treated in a prompt and professional manner for once, obviously. But still. Something in Ren’s behaviour seemed clearly off, unlike Goro remembered. He was weirdly careful, his words were clipped, and he was way too unimpressed with finding Goro alive. Akechi realized grimly he had expected something else, and getting suddenly pissed at himself, he focused on getting up only to fail miserably. 

His limbs were still plagued by that intense pain that stemmed from being exposed to the cold for so long. In hindsight, even if it was humiliating, it was good that he’d had the common sense to shield himself with the cardboard, and luckily it had been laying around in the first place. Without that mediocre insulation he’d have been in far worse trouble. Still, it was bad enough. Goro couldn’t remember anything between falling asleep in his cardboard tent and Ren finding him past noon the next day. He had no idea what time it was, either. Irritated at the constricting layers of fabrics, he peeled the wet compresses away from his stiff fingers, yanked the towel out of his hair and pushed the water bottle away, then tried again to raise himself up enough to sit. 

Ren rushed up the stairs at the sounds of Akechi stirring. He was about to reach out and help him when Goro raised a hand in an angry gesture, stopping him.

“I told you I can do it myself, thank you very much,” he barked, clambering up and settling his back against the wall. The minor effort had him panting and bathed in cold sweat.

“So I see,” Ren noted coldly, arching an eyebrow. “Drink this. It’s just tea with honey.” He passed him the mug and made sure he could hold it safely; Akechi’s hands were trembling slightly and he couldn’t stand the heat long, so Ren wrapped the mug in a towel. 

“You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, have you?” He asked, standing uncertainly next to the bed. Like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Mhm.” Akechi didn’t feel the need to correct him on the exact time his last meal had been. He busied himself with the tea.

“You prefer curry or miso soup? I have some ready downstairs.”

“You don’t have to babysit me…”

“Just tell me what you want,” Ren interrupted him.

Akechi shot him a sharp look and was literally nanoseconds away from snapping ‘I _want_ to kill Shido’, but he reigned himself in. It wouldn’t do him any good to spill his plan so transparently in front of Amamiya, and he didn’t owe him any explanations, either. 

He swallowed another mouthful with effort, patting the hot towel nervously.

“...You really don’t have to do this,” was all he managed to say. He felt trapped. He wanted to leave. Why had he even come here? 

“Then why did you even come here?” Ren asked. Shit! Akechi’s nostrils flared.

“I don’t know,” he said, bravely meeting Ren’s eyes. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.” 

“Ah,” Ren nodded, in a tone of exaggerated understanding, “so all this time, when you _weren’t_ telling me you’re alive - that was you thinking clearly?”

Akechi didn’t avert his eyes. He refused to budge.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You got clingy toward the end.”

Yes. There it was. Finally. Akechi could clearly see the hurt on Ren’s face, painted in the line of his tightening jaw, in the frown on his forehead, in the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple. It hit straight home, through his pathetic, kind heart, a bullseye into his pathological need to _give_ and to _care_. 

Ren just stood there for the longest time, not looking at Akechi. 

“Letting someone believe you are dead, letting them mourn you… is one of the more cruel things you can come up with.” He shook his head and picked up his phone again. “I don’t believe I deserved it.” 

“Are you calling the police?” Akechi asked, eyeing the phone. His fingers clenched on the mug.

“No,” Ren said coldly. “I’m calling Yusuke. You can’t stay here - the second Sōjirō sees you, you’ll end up in jail, and I refuse to make Futaba any more upset. So we have to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

“And what does Yusuke have to do with it?”

“We live together.” Akechi’s eyes darted to Ren’s face. “If you’re going to crash in our apartment, he has to agree to it.”

“Then I’m not going there.”

“Then leave,” Ren leaned in over the bed in a fluid, feline movement, maintaining eye contact.

There was fire in those eyes, determination mixed with lingering offense; he stared at Goro with a challenge clearly written on his face. 

“Go on. Leave LeBlanc now, go out in the frost in your threadbare hoodie with no money to buy a lousy bowl of ramen and no ID to explain who you are, if the cops stop you.” He taunted. “What you gonna do? You think you’ll catch a snippet of information about Shido’s whereabouts by some miracle? He is very careful with how much media know about him these days. And then what? You’re gonna steal a baseball bat or something and go after him without any intel or tactic?” He straightened and shrugged, looking down on Goro, who said nothing, shaking with pent-up rage. To have his situation broken down to him so clearly was more than he was willing to tolerate.

“Very good plan. Brilliant. Almost as good as the last one,” Ren added after a while and Akechi bared his teeth in a snarl. 

The mug fell from his grasp and the contents splashed on top of the covers and on the floor as the ceramic split in three chunks, hitting the hardwood. Goro shoved the covers off, untangled the towel from his feet and made to stand, but his legs wouldn’t support him; Sharp pain in his toes made him stumble and he fell on his knees on the second step. Goro found he was unable to get up, overwhelmed by a wave of dizziness and nausea.

Ren just watched, hands in his pockets in a relaxed Joker stance, as Akechi struggled. 

“Should I throw out that glove?” he asked, impassive. “I can’t see my rival anymore.”

Initial shock on Akechi’s face disappeared as if wiped off with a rag. He scowled from the floor, panting heavily.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he spat, wounded to the core. “You don’t know _anything_! Fuck you, Amamiya!” 

“I know what I see, and I see a mess.” 

“I should never have said anything back then!” Akechi almost yelled, a memory of them standing in LeBlanc’ door with their hands touching painfully vivid under his eyelids. Ren’s face twisted in pain as he watched him go. Goro was more angry at himself now, because - how, just how could he have been so stupid to allow him close?! How could he have trusted him, why had his lethargic and muddled brain made the decision to crawl here like a dog to the only place he remembered as moderately welcoming? Fuck! 

“A couple words too many and you get so full of yourself!” He snarled. “What, you won your life back and that gives you the moral mandate to judge?!”

“No! The fact that you’re down on the floor, too weak to get up! It’s because of your own carelessness,” Ren stepped up to help him back on his feet, but Akechi pushed his hands away angrily. 

“Get the fuck out of my way!” He yelled. 

“I’m not here to do what you want,” Ren hissed, repeating Akechi’s own words and grabbing him by the T-shirt to hoist him up. “I’m here to do what’s needed.”

Goro’s hands flailed and he pushed Ren back, hissing as he put pressure on his frostbitten feet. He was so dizzy that he had to lean on the shelf, lest he would fall down again; his hand gripped the dark wood so hard it creaked. Ren orbited nearby, extending his hands to catch him if needed. 

Akechi swayed, fighting a wave of nausea, white hot pain in his bones and the furious sting in his feet. He had to close his eyes, ground himself, get a grip; the room was spinning, and the shelf along with it.

“You didn’t even text me.” 

Ren’s lips were pursed tight and he wasn’t looking at Akechi. His eyes went up, as if he was looking at something above Goro’s head; his face and neck blotched in red, so Goro could clearly see how upset and hurt he is, but his voice was like steel. 

“What good would it do.” Goro muttered with effort, still clinging blindly to the shelf. 

“At least I would know you are safe,” Ren said firmly.

“And you needed that knowledge to do what, move on with your life?” Goro scoffed. “You wanted my permission?”

“Closure,” Ren said quietly. 

Stunned Akechi opened his eyes despite his painful haze and stared at Ren for a good while before bursting into a cruel, mocking laughter.

“ _Closure_?! You needed closure? How much more of a closure could I give you than what I already have?! Ahaha-ha!” He swayed dangerously, close to falling down, but still swatted Ren’s hands away in rejection. “You won your reality back and you’ve done nothing with it, what, because _you were waiting for me_? Oh, that’s so pathetic!” Akechi’s frame hung from the shelf limply, as the last bits of laughter shook him. He brought an arm to his forehead and rested his head on his closed fist against the wood.

“That’s really... precious, Amamiya-kun. You have the audacity to give me a speech, when you yourself are still washing dishes, serving posh coffee to regulars and screwing Kitagawa when you’re bored. Or, did you switch? Because he must be the sugar daddy now, I’ve seen the exhibition posters,” he mocked, and Ren felt an overwhelming wave of rage coming over him and blood thrumming in his ears. 

“Not a word,” he warned, high-strung and ready to spring forward, “Not. A single word. About Yusuke.” 

“Sure. Because you _love_ him that much.” 

Ren snapped. He was on Akechi in a second, grabbing two fistfuls of the T-shirt and pulling him up towards himself. Akechi grunted in surprise and stumbled, torn away from his crutch; he sagged heavily in Ren’s grip, trying to claw at his wrists with the sore, swollen fingers. 

“Oh, hit the spot, didn’t I?” he huffed, grimacing at the strong shake that Ren gave him. “Do you even see yourself? You’re spoiling for a fight, trapped in your mediocre routine. Face it. You’re nothing without the Metaverse, and you’ve been nothing for the past two years, just like me! So shut the fuck up and let me go,” Akechi spat. 

Ren took a deeper breath, looking at the prone figure in his grip, disentangled from the shielding covers and blankets. Akechi was a mess. His lanky limbs had lost some of their muscle, his complexion was grayish and sick, there were new scars on his arms. He was just swimming in the loose sweatpants Ren had given him. Two years in hiding, or however long it had been - it had taken a toll. Ren didn’t want to fight him. 

A burning, ugly feeling of shame blossomed in his chest and he lowered Goro down slowly, allowing himself to take a deep breath. Akechi didn’t try to get up; sliding to his knees on the floor, he was observing his every movement with hawk-like attention, still gripping his wrists. 

“Funny, isn’t it?” He spoke finally, observing the changes on Ren’s face. “We fought quite hard for the true reality. For a right to make our own decisions. And neither of us have done anything remarkable with it.”

Ren’s hands let go of the T-shirt. 

“You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m an angry mess, just like you.” He knelt down in front of Akechi, supporting him. “It’s not exactly our fault, though.”

“Delusional as ever.” Air left Goro’s lungs with a heavy, painful sigh as he sat down clumsily. He started trembling again.

“I don’t follow you anymore.” Ren growled, pulling the blanket from the bed and wrapping it around Goro’s shoulders roughly. “I know you’re all for making your own fate, but even you cannot argue that it wasn’t a fair game. It’s kind of hard to do everything right when there is a literal God of Control putting obstacles on your way for sport.”

“That is no longer the case,” Goro muttered. 

“But the consequences remain,” Ren pulled the blanket tighter around Goro and his brow creased with worry at how skinny Akechi’s arms were in his grip. 

“And I’ll deal with them. Screw this. I’ve been hiding for too long.”

“You still plan to kill him,” Ren said quietly. Almost sadly. 

Poignant silence stretched for a heartbeat.

“And you want my help to do it?” 

They locked glances, uncertain; Akechi knew if he only asked, Ren would help him with everything, from securing information, money and equipment to letting him lay low for an indefinite amount of time in his place. Shit, he has practically offered to do so already without being asked to and without consideration for his own safety. Goro should take him up on it if he wanted to see his plan through. But… no.

“I’ll be out of your hair before you know it,” he muttered. “I don’t need your help besides a little information. And a meal, maybe... if you haven’t lost your touch.”

Ren scoffed at the insinuation.

“No one gets under my skin like you do.”

“That’s because I know you,” Goro said easily, settling into a little smirk. 

They shared another minute of silence, suddenly more comfortable than before; Akechi focused on his breathing, trying to force the room to stop swimming in front of his eyes, for once accepting help in form of a hot water bottle pressed to his lap. He steadied himself finally, looked at Ren in a more calm manner and raised a hand closer to his face to inspect the damage; all of the struggling and throwing hits at each other resulted in his skin breaking, staining his palm and the borrowed clothes with little splatters of blood. Ren reached for a fresh gauze, wetted it and handed it to Goro. He accepted.

“Maybe I could stay here, just until tomorrow?” Akechi asked. “Don’t involve Yusuke. It could be potentially dangerous, you wouldn't want to put him in harm’s way.” 

Ren shot him a sharp look. He knew this is the closest to an apology he is going to get.

“Sōjirō opens up tomorrow. He can’t find you here,” he said. “I don’t think we have much of a choice… but let me think about it. Anyway, you need to eat something first.”

Akechi nodded. He certainly could do without the nausea and hunger pangs clawing at his stomach.

“Help me up, will you? I’m lightheaded.” 

Reaching out to put an arm around his neck, Goro allowed Ren to lift him up to a standing position and settle him back into the bed comfortably. Hot water bottles, towels and compresses were put back into place with all the diligence, as if Ren wanted to wordlessly apologize for lifting Goro up by the scruff and almost throwing a punch in his face. Akechi stared at him with equal parts amusement and venom as Ren fussed, carefully wrapping a fresh, wet gauze around his frostbitten fingers.

“Freak.” He said, shaking his head. Ren did not react.

“Get some rest,” he muttered, securing the end of the gauze and picking up the shattered chunks of the mug and scattered bandage packages from the floor. “I’ll be right back. Is the soup fine?”

“Yeah,” Akechi sighed, allowing himself to settle more comfortably against the pillow. “...Please,” he added reluctantly.

“No problem.” 

Ren went down the stairs quickly; Akechi noticed that he took the phone along with him. He bit his lip, suddenly torn again between the spiking need to bolt the hell out of here and the weakness of his own limbs, the humiliating betrayal of his own body pushed past the limit. He closed his eyes in frustration, trying to reason with himself, to force his muscles to relax; the warmth bleeding slowly into his chest and nape from the water bottles pacified him enough to stay put, brought some relief. He could vaguely hear Ren bustling downstairs, opening the fridge and clanking with the pots and lids, apparently heating up his meal. 

When he opened his eyes again, the star stickers twinkled silently in the dim attic and laughed at him from the height of the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed icicle Akechi and some bare-chested action to warm him up XD Please leave me a comment!
> 
> And again, if anyone would be willing to beta...? I'm GreyPigeon on discord, @GreyPigeon4 on twitter, give me a shout!


	7. //Gasp//

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yusuke watches over Akechi in LeBlanc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: sickfic, angst, nightmare & a wee bit of gore, PTSD, panic attack, referenced/implied physical and sexual abuse.
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTES:   
> 1) I am proud to announce that this chapter has been beta read, and the future ones will be too, ^^ what should make this story a better experience for all of you! Expertly beta'd by @RuneLyer, who is absolutely professional, very perceptive and insightful and supportive in a way I really appreciate - working on this chapter due to all the advice I got was a precious experience. Thank you so much for your time, Rune!   
> 2) This is a rather slow, dialogue-heavy chapter; put on some asmr windy evening/fire crackling tune and enjoy yourselves some akekita bonding time. As always, I am keen on feedback and concrit! Enjoy!^^

**~*~**

The empty soup bowl and a mug of lukewarm tea stood forgotten on the nightstand as Akechi had dozed off, buried under the blankets up to his chin. It was already dark outside, so Ren had left a small lamp on. It casted a warm, orange glow around the attic; the small heater still burned and the fire crackled pleasantly. The scene would be quite homely, if not for the sickly grey color of Goro’s face and the dark circles under his eyes. He looked positively sick, with the swelling on his cheek left after the assault and the deep frown which never left his brow, even in his sleep. The ugly evidence of an impromptu medical intervention was scattered about the room. A bloodstained heap of clothing sat on the floor at the foot of the bed. Some leftover bandages, sterile dressings and a bottle of disinfectant along with a zip-up bag of various medicines were still not tidied up, sticking out from the first-aid kit or laid out within easy reach. 

Yusuke hesitated and stopped in his tracks, staring at Goro with apprehension. He put a sports bag gingerly on the couch, purposefully being very quiet, and Ren passed him by to unpack its contents without a word. 

“Is he asleep?” Yusuke asked in a whisper.

“Hopefully,” Ren answered. These will do, he thought with some relief, laying out the items on the couch. Yusuke had brought some warm clothes for Akechi, along with a woolen hat and a pair of loose, knit gloves, and heavy winter boots. “He’s past exhausted. He’s been almost docile.”

“Docile? Akechi?” Yusuke’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah,” Ren smirked, “I only felt like knocking his teeth out once.”

“Don’t say that,” Yusuke frowned at the brazen look Ren gave him, but they both turned around simultaneously at the sounds of weak shuffling coming from the bed.

“Which part… of the sentence ‘I was followed’... did you not understand, Amamiya?” Goro groaned, trying to raise himself into a sitting position. “You could have just as well put up a huge banner above the door, saying ‘Akechi Goro is here’. Are you really that stupid? Why did you bring him here!” He demanded in a raspy voice, straining against the weakness in his limbs.

“I am not lying to him on your account. Besides, Yusuke wanted to help.” Ren said over his shoulder matter-of factly.

“Hello, Akechi-kun,” Yusuke extended a greeting, coming closer to the bed. He made an effort not to flinch as the duvet fell from Akechi’s torso, exposing the badly bruised, bony shoulder sticking out from the wide neck of the loose black T-shirt; he knew that Akechi noticed the look, though. “You don’t have to worry, no one followed me,” he added in an effort to reassure him a bit.

“Not that you know of,” Akechi muttered, shooting him an unpleasant glance, “...and hi.” He added sulkily, tugging on the T-shirt to hide the shoulder.

“I was vigilant on my way here. And in any case, this is not an unusual destination for me; it wouldn’t be suspicious if I just stopped by LeBlanc on a whim,” Yusuke reasoned. Ren pulled up a chair for him and the other one for himself, sat down and passed Goro the tea, quickly taking care of the spillage that followed due to his awkward hold. Thirst must have won over the reluctance to be babysitted, because both the mug and the assistance were accepted with no backlash. Or maybe it was the fact that Goro was still a bit groggy with sleep. 

“Drink it all,” Ren said and sat down heavily, resting his elbows on his knees. “You have to drink more. You’re dehydrated.”

“What exactly did Takemi say?” Yusuke asked with a genuinely worried voice, making Akechi scowl over the mug.

“She said to use common sense, but also to watch out for fever, heart palpitations or breathing problems. Raising body temperature does not mean the end of trouble. I’m worried about kidney function the most,” Ren explained. “It’s not like we can go to a hospital, after all.”

“What about Takemi’s clinic?” Yusuke gasped. “She will surely help…”

“She’s in Sapporo.” Ren propped his glasses up nervously. “She gives a lecture on some sort of a big-deal medical conference. We’re on our own until Friday.” 

“I will be long gone before Friday comes,” Akechi said, sipping at his tea. His voice was really hoarse, the usually melodic quality of it completely extinguished. “So you can stop panicking. And don’t talk like I’m not in the room.”

“Big words from someone I found delirious in the garbage,” Ren sniped right at him, and Akechi was suddenly tempted to smash the mug into his forehead. Yusuke must have noticed a fleeting emotion on his face and the involuntary twitch of his fingers, because he intervened quickly, turning directly to Akechi.

“Let’s consider the situation calmly for a while. Realistically speaking, you will _not_ be able to be on your own for at least a couple of days. You lack supplies, intel, documents, money and you are, quite frankly, incapacitated, on top of which you are followed by unknown assailants for unknown reasons. You are safe for the time being, but to keep you that way and to remove any conceivable danger from the vicinity of Futaba and Sakura-san we have to smuggle you out of LeBlanc. As soon as your condition permits. Inconspicuously.”

Ren shifted in the chair, shuffled his feet on the hardwood floor. 

“I was thinking... maybe we could bunk you out at Ryuji’s. Or in Ann’s flat. It stays empty, and I believe one of the girls has the key.” He eyed Goro and Yusuke in turn. 

“But I don’t understand why?” Yusuke offered. “Our flat is perfectly suitable. Also, I do not think it wise to inform anyone else about Akechi-kun’s return, not out of distrust…”

“...exactly because of distrust,” Akechi cut in.

“...but rather to limit the number of potential leaks. The less people know, the easier it will be.”

Ren didn’t say anything for a while, doing his best not to chew on his lower lip nervously and just looking at Yusuke with a weird expression instead. Akechi had a pretty good idea of what was going on inside his head. All of the doubt, the guilt, the desperate urge to just act and _help_ and _save_ was tempered with apprehension, the fear of reaction in the eyes of his partner. Akechi saw all of this written across his face as if it was vivid red ink, the unsaid words screaming for forgiveness and permission, and he couldn’t help but feel disgusted by it. 

It showed, apparently; Ren looked like he wanted to say something, but one nervous glance at Akechi’s face twisted in a snarl made him rethink whatever it had been and he simply glued his eyes to his feet.

“Or, you could just drop me off in a cheap motel and get over it.” Akechi spat, unable to look at him any longer. “Believe it or not, but I do have a certain aversion to being an unwelcome presence in somebody else’s home.”

Ren twitched, his face twisting in a painful grimace, but Yusuke didn’t allow him to say anything and put a calming hand on his knee.

“We are extending an invitation, so it’s not unwelcome,” he said gently towards Akechi, “and you will simply recover quicker after a good night’s rest and a hot bath. It is settled.” He straightened in his chair, letting go of Ren’s knee, leaned back and raked a hand through his hair with a long exhale. Akechi noticed a thin, pale scar running along his hairline, usually hidden by his asymmetric bangs; he has never seen it before. But then, he had never really paid _that_ close attention to what Yusuke does and says. How he acts. 

In a stark contrast to Ren, who looked almost like he hadn’t changed a thing, whose manner of speaking and body language were still predictable and unpretentious, Yusuke definitely matured. There was a different air around him, a far cry from the impoverished, unkempt and socially awkward stick-bug that followed the Phantom Thieves around with a sketchbook and his fingernails perpetually stained with charcoal. Yet looking at him now, Goro could appreciate the way he looked; his frame a bit more full, his facial features sharpened, more masculine, his naturally fine hair with a healthy sheen and a decent trim at the ends, the navy checkered blazer tapered at the waist. Yusuke apparently had to learn the basics of how to present himself. 

The little move of brushing his hair away caught Goro’s attention much more than the way he was dressed, though; the Yusuke he had known would never fall back in the chair with such ease, much less in the presence of someone he did not like or know very well, nor would he mess up the stiff way he held himself by ruffling his hair or making a face. He wouldn’t be half as welcoming, nor that understanding. Goro appraised him carefully.

Yusuke seemed much more confident than he had used to. Akechi wasn’t sure he liked it. 

“Alright. We have to figure out how to arrange the move.” Ren rubbed his brow, still looking at the floor. “All I know is that LeBlanc being closed during the evening, when it gets moderately busy, will look suspicious. I should stay here and run my shift like usual.”

“I can sit with Akechi-kun until you’re done,” Yusuke offered. “Go downstairs and carry on, should anything happen I’ll be here to react.” 

“Alright… I’ll bring you both some curry later, and you just try to catch some more sleep, okay?” He turned to Goro. Every fiber of Akechi’s being screamed at Ren’s conciliatory tone and the unperturbed patience emanating from Yusuke, but he nodded. 

“And then? A taxi?” Yusuke asked.

“Not a good choice,” Goro interjected quickly. “A car is the easiest to track, going directly from one destination to another. It would give up the location of your flat far too easily. We should go by train. Stall, or stop by some other place while we’re at it. Just in case.” 

“In a group of three?” 

“No.” Goro shook his head. “We should split up on our way there.” 

“Fine. Then after I close, we’ll go towards the station, Yusuke will take a detour somewhere, and I’ll take you to the flat.” Ren suggested. “Would that work?”

“Splitting up in three directions would be better,” Akechi muttered, “we two could rendezvous somewhere, let’s say in Akihabara, while Yusuke stalls and makes a circle to further confuse them.”

“Except I’m not letting you wander off on your own,” Ren whipped his head up suddenly, his voice going stern and shoulders square, “so you’re going with me, end of story. What if you collapse? What if they get you? We’re staying together.”

Akechi’s jaw clenched. He did not answer, just forced himself to finish the rest of his tea and slammed the mug back on the nightstand. The wet compress slid from his left hand, so he clumsily tried to fix it with the right, his eyes so determined that it was almost pathetic; Ren pretended he didn’t see his annoyance and returned to staring at the floor. Yusuke just sat there, confused and lost in this game of glances. 

Unable to read through them, he ultimately decided to ignore it altogether; there were more pressing matters at hand, like the way Akechi’s hands started to tremble around the ceramic mug, or how his neck flushed with an unhealthy shade of red. Yusuke suspected he had developed a fever by now, but asking him to take his temperature would most certainly be met with an angry rejection, so he didn’t even mention it. 

“One more thing we can do as of now,” he offered in hopes of dispelling the weird air instead, “is to start gathering any useful information about Shido.”

Akechi growled in open hostility, his head whipping in Ren’s direction. “You told him about that too?! Are you demented?!” 

“I didn’t say anything,” Ren responded with a scowl, “I didn’t have to.”

Akechi looked like he was about to bite Ren’s head clean off, so Yusuke stepped in quickly. 

“You have to realize your re-emergence exactly two weeks after Shido is released from prison is a pretty obvious correlation,” he said quickly, lifting both palms in the air in a calming, defensive gesture. “I don’t know what it is you plan, exactly… I can only hope it does not involve killing him.” Yusuke swallowed. “If that is the case, I… really, strongly urge you to reconsider. Not even for his sake, but for your own. It would be throwing away any future you still have at best, another suicidal mission at worst. But it is still _your_ decision to make,” he added hastily, seeing that Akechi charges up to spit a remark at him, “and to make a well-informed decision you need, well… information. In any case, you have a right to know. And I believe we should pause this particular discussion at that.”

Goro’s eyes were round, furious and glossy in fever as he stared at Yusuke without a word. But Kitagawa was right; if they kept discussing what ifs, they would inevitably steer towards the topic of planning the actual murder. Akechi eased himself down on the bed. To make Ren and Yusuke accomplices in the crime of assassinating Shido Masayoshi was the last thing he wanted. Not because of any misplaced loyalty for old and frankly doubtful friendships, or remorse towards the victims. Simply because it sickened him. 

Akechi himself knew what it was like to pull the trigger; he _had chosen_ to know. He could remember the weight of the loaded gun in his hand, and his skin did not burn with the memory. He could clearly recall the fright and distress on the faces of the targets he had obliterated in the metaverse, and the ghosts of these people did not come to haunt him. Every time he would wake up in the middle of the night nauseated after a single, recurring nightmare of a bloodied table and a brain splatter on the wall, he would just wash his face with cold water, take a deep breath and tell himself to go back to sleep. He had dragged himself through it, had pushed his boundaries with every ‘job’, he wasn’t made of glass; but not everybody was like him. And Akechi was not mangled enough to make _them_ experience it, friends or not. 

He fidgeted with the compress again. In fact, just by discussing it, by providing him news on Shido’s whereabouts, they could be considered complicit, and it twisted Goro’s guts unpleasantly. The feeling wouldn’t relent. For something like the hundredth time Akechi wished that he hadn’t folded, hadn’t brought this mess to their doorstep in a bout of half-conscious _emotion_ and weakness. Ren was one thing, his pathetic and kind-hearted attempts at reassuring Goro aside. Damn it, all of his help aside, the fact that he warmed him up with his own body _aside_. Akechi looked into the wise, calm, wary eyes of Yusuke and he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he should leave. Immediately. 

Yusuke slowly let his hands drop, still observing him vigilantly; he relaxed, seeing that Goro was not retaliating any further. 

“Are we on the same page?” The painter asked quietly. “I would really hate to agitate you any further.”

Akechi sighed; still on edge, but hearing no threatening nor patronizing notes in Yusuke’s voice, he nodded, thin-lipped and frustrated. He brought a hand to his forehead in a shaky gesture, wiping at the cold sweat that gathered at his hairline.

“Alright. Let’s just calm down a bit and stop growling at every word. It really can be a minefield to hold a conversation with you, Goro,” Ren muttered with a dry smirk, “and you only get worse with age. Besides... I’m curious as well. Shido did a number on me, too. I think I would like to know in which merry resort he’s hiding now, sipping drinks on a beach and spending taxpayer’s money. The fine they gave him was not that big, I’m sure he still has the means to live very, very comfortably.” 

“Are you sure that this is what he’s doing after his change of heart?” Yusuke asked quietly, and for once it was his turn to stare at the floor. 

“I don’t care,” Akechi said after a while. “I don’t want to give him a chance to speak. I don’t think I could even stand an apology.” 

No one knew how to react to that, so they sat together in silence for a while longer. Akechi was visibly tired; the flush on his neck spread to his face, and his breath became laboured and shaky. He let his head fall back and rest against the wall; as unwilling as he was to admit that he needed more rest, his body simply demanded it. Weakness was an almost forgotten experience, and it was infuriating; he had been so used to this, knocked down a hundred times in the Metaverse, he had dealt with all sorts of ailments, had sutured his own wounds, damn it - but this? The effects of something as trivial as exposure on his whole body were unexpectedly more bothersome. Not to mention humiliating.

“Do you want to sleep some more?” Ren asked finally. 

Akechi blinked slowly, as if considering his options or trying to clear his head. 

“I think I need to go downstairs first,” He said with some effort, “but then… may as well.”

“Come on then,” Ren stood up quickly and reached to lift him up under the armpits. It took all of Akechi’s self-control not to shove him backwards on reflex, but he reined himself in and allowed Ren to pull him up. “You’re burning, you have a fever,” Ren noticed, helping him to stand; his knees were wobbly.

“Frankly, I could use some sort of analgesic.” Akechi muttered. “What time is it…?”

“Almost five o’clock,” Yusuke supplied politely. “We have about four hours until close.”

“Thank you.” Akechi took a deeper breath, trying to steady himself. “It’s alright, I think I can stand on my own now.”

“Let me help you down the stairs.”

“ _No_ , it’s fine. I’m fine.” Akechi stepped out of the frame of Ren’s arms, tossing a somewhat uncomfortable glance towards Yusuke, and slowly, falteringly, shuffled barefoot through the attic floor and towards the stairs, holding on to the railing with a white-knuckled grip.

**~*~**

Yusuke genuinely thought that his presence might throw Akechi off kilter, but upon returning from the bathroom with an expression that didn’t bode well, he wordlessly gulped down two painkillers, collapsed on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately, ignoring him. Ren tucked him in, fixed a wet compress on his forehead and once he was positive Akechi was asleep, he stepped away from the sickbed. 

He approached Yusuke slowly; he reached for his hand, nudged it with a finger. Yusuke gave him a reassuring smile, moving a bit closer and squeezing his hand properly.

“Stop worrying so much,” he said simply.

Ren inched closer and placed a quick, chaste kiss on Yusuke’s cheek, then disappeared downstairs. When he came up with a pitcher of water and two glasses, he did not say a single word, just left the items on the nightstand and got out.

Yusuke sighed. 

He knew what was going on. He had braced himself for it. Also, he was well aware that the whole scenario enfolded in a way that was the most fair and the most transparent to him, even on Akechi’s expense. Ren didn’t lie, omit nor hide anything. Yusuke was calm. 

Yet it still had been painful to hear Ren drop the words on the phone like a life sentence; ‘Akechi’s back.’ 

Yusuke had to sit down then. His vision blurred in an instant, his heartbeat spiked and there was nothing he could do to stop his hands from shaking, suddenly overtaken by the paralyzing fear of being scorned. The feeling only intensified when he recalled the moment they had shared only that morning, the attentive way Ren made love to him, the way he looked at him, the way he _saw through_ him. All the images rushed into his head unhindered and Yusuke shivered at the thought of all this suddenly being taken away; he had briefly and quite irrationally imagined Akechi just strolling into LeBlanc, demanding a cup of coffee and a game of chess as if nothing had ever happened, announcing that he has cleared his name, repaid for all his crimes during those two years of absence and is now coming to make things right with Ren. And in that vision Ren would of course melt like putty in the selfish hands of the former Detective Prince and never spare a second glance in Yusuke’s direction.

 _But_ , Yusuke had forced his brain to halt, _but it couldn’t be that easy. But I trust him. But he loves me._ _But his voice is just as panicked as my own thoughts, I can clearly hear it._

The more Ren talked, the more he described the real situation and the state Akechi was in, the more Yusuke recognized that the whole thing had to be narrowed down to the bare necessities, which appeared to be making sure that Akechi’s life is not in danger and reassuring Ren. 

Ren did not lie. Ren cared about what Yusuke would think. Ren was loyal to him. 

No more secrets.

_“Ren Amamiya is not going to leave me”._

Shaken as he had been, Yusuke managed to get a hold on himself. He had changed quickly, grabbed a capacious bag from the shelf and packed anything that might come in handy, then quickly locked the flat and almost ran to the train station. He had to see Ren. He had to look into his eyes. He had to take his hand and feel its warmth. He had to _know_. 

He saw Akechi, too - and all of the emotions bubbling up and threatening to spill over the surface suddenly calmed down, leveled, giving way only for one - the same awkward, aching impression he had felt in the engine room for the warped soul standing defeated in front of him: pity. 

Yusuke allowed himself to feel it fully for a while; to get lost in it, to reach out and just _pity_ Akechi, almost out of spite, knowing full well that he would surely rather die than accept charity from anyone; he pitied Akechi with all his might, telling himself that this was only a natural, healthy reaction, something normal, something that people should have felt for him in the past, something that Yusuke himself would have accepted gladly if offered, instead of alienation and rejection after Madarame had been imprisoned. And earlier, too. Pity was human, visceral, ugly, but true; it wasn’t all that bad. Akechi must have been really full of himself not to recognize it for what it was, a human reaction borne out of desire to help, stop the hurt, remedy the injustice, right the wrong.

But then Yusuke glanced at Ren - saw how lost he looked in his own head and how afraid he was of his own thoughts - and the foul, cunning feeling aimed itself on him, too. And suddenly it didn’t feel as righteous anymore. 

Yusuke sighed.

Akechi slept without a twitch, visibly exhausted. Yusuke knew that staring at him, dwelling on the resentment and trying to untangle this gordian knot of mutual relations by himself and on the spot would do nothing; it was daunting to even try. 

If only he could better understand it, dissect all he knew about the two Tricksters, arrange it in his mind in neat compartments of cause-and-effect and probability. But he had never been good with people to begin with, much less with people as complicated as Akechi Goro, and he had no idea what it was that he could do to alleviate the pain of all the parties involved. 

What he could do was keep watch.

**~*~**

_Mama! Mama…_

_Mom, I’m sorry… I soaked my shoes again. I didn’t mean to…_

_A tall, slender figure stood up and approached him, reaching out to brush the drenched, mousey hair away from his forehead. Mama… Which mama I’m going to get today…?_

_Sweetie, what happened...? My poor boy, you’re all wet. Let’s get you in the bath, shall we? You will catch a cold!_

_Oh._

_It’s the kind mama today._

_The woman cooed gently into the boy’s ear, helping him to take off the colorful rucksack and the worn out sneakers, taking a better look at the cracked, rubber sole of the left shoe. She put it aside, shaking her head with a tired smile, picked the boy up into her arms and carried him to the bathroom; the hug was returned tenfold, small chubby hands and legs wrapping around her middle, like those of a koala._

_Goro could feel the warm, soft, protective arms around him, hot breath on his neck, musky scent of her strong perfume. And yet he remained in place, sitting on the floor; he was observing the woman carry the small boy away. No, come back…_

_I want to see your face. Why can't I see your face?_

_Do I not remember?..._

_“You were such a fuckin’ brat, you know?”_

_The void next to him pulsed and gained density, the mist took shape, materialized. Eyes vivid yellow, hair sleek and shiny with product; the olive blazer and black slacks pressed, tailored, prim._

_“You ever wondered how many ‘customers’ she had to service to buy you a new pair of shoes?”_

_He supported his chin on a fist. The usual black leather gloves fit snugly on his hands; soft, manicured hands, hands that did not know a single honest day of work, hands that were used to handling a fountain pen, a set of files. Or a gun._

_“Do you want me to tell you?” A smile. “How many blowjobs was that? How many times did she have to take it from behind?”_

_No._

_No. No._

_“Fuck off,” he hissed._

_“...And all because you didn’t know when to keep your yapper shut, or take a beating like you should... You didn’t even have the guts to tell her *why* are your shoes broken, you fucking whipster. You made life twice as hard for her.”_

_“SHUT UP! Get the fuck away from me, what are you?!”_

_His mouth opened wide in a gruesome mockery of a smile; rows and rows of sharp teeth, filed and pointy, tiny. Inhuman. Glistening like daggers._

_“Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun together. When you finally get there.”_

_“Get where?!”_

_My poor baby. Are you warmer now...? Good. Don’t worry, mum is going to figure something out... Do you want bubbles? Yes? Aha-ha, I thought so! Give mummy a hug._

_Oh, I love you too, Goro._

_The yellow-eyed shadow stood up swiftly and approached them in the bathroom, taking the boy’s place. He leaned in, wrapped his arms around the woman, and she let him do it; he stroked her hair tenderly. Lovely, lush locks, gently curling at the ends, dark blonde. Mousey in the artificial bathroom light._

_He looked at Goro over her shoulder. Keeping his unblinking, yellow stare at him, he lifted one of the woman’s hands and kissed her fingers._

_And then he bit down._

_Pain zapped through him, jolted him upright; his own fingers started to bleed, dropping pearly ruby spots abundantly. His nerves were on fire; the fingers stung, went rigid in the joints, the pain only gaining on intensity, drilling deep to the delicate bones; Goro yelled to stop, tried to get up, run towards them, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything when that other h i m was biting and slurping, lapping up the blood; he was tearing the flesh, and *eating her fingers*, and-_

_Akechi!_

_I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…!_

_Akechi, wake up! Akechi!_

_CROW!_

**~*~**

His hands flailed, ready to grab, claw or land a punch on any enemy that had come at him, his whole body tensed in an anticipation of an attack, but he met only empty air.

“Akechi-kun, you are in café LeBlanc, you are safe. It was just a dream. I’m Yusuke, you know me, you remember me from high school,” a calm and steady voice explained, and Akechi whipped his head towards him, seeing that he stood away from the bed, his hands turned palms up and held in a way that he could see them, his whole body tense and very still. 

Akechi blinked in confusion, lowered his hands on his lap and unclenched his fists; pain shot through him and brought his attention to the blisters, swollen up with fluid. In some places the frostbites had progressed from bright red to slightly brown. His right hand was dripping with blood and hurting furiously; he must have torn the scabs open in his sleep.

“Breathe, Akechi,” Yusuke said. “You have a fever. Whatever you saw wasn’t real. Breathe.” 

“Ki-tagawa...?”

“Yes, it’s me. Can you breathe…? Akechi, focus.”

Goro licked his lips nervously; he was indeed out of breath, his chest heaving as if he had run a marathon, a cramp gripping his flesh somewhere underneath his ribs. His hand flew to his throat, struggling for oxygen. Yusuke stirred and circled the bed slowly to slide open the window, his movements slow and certain so that Akechi could easily figure out what he was doing. The gust of cold wind hit Goro’s face, bringing some relief.

“Count to ten, Akechi-kun,” Yusuke said, “slowly count to ten and try to breathe.”

The feeling started to fade. His heart was still racing, but as he had forced himself to gulp down more of the cold, wet air, his head cleared a bit and he started to be able to think coherently again. He put his elbow on the windowsill, leaning his head towards the cool glass pane; rubbing his face with the less-bloodied hand, he shook off the last foggy remnants of sleep from his eyes. He could feel the sheets tangled around his legs, the covers constricting and heavy; he was drenched in sweat and frankly very uncomfortable.

“That… was n-not a reaction of someone shocked,” he muttered with effort. “...so Amamiya has nightmares, too, I take it.”

Yusuke shrugged with a small sigh; he relaxed his posture visibly, seeing that Goro was back in his right mind. 

Indeed, Yusuke knew it would be wiser to wake him from a safe distance and make sure he can understand that he is not in the presence of an enemy, rather than try and touch Akechi. It didn’t require a psychic to figure it out - the man was on the run for two years, after all. Yusuke wetted a small towel and passed it to Goro, who wiped his face with a muffled grunt of relief. 

“The proper term would be PTSD, I believe,” Yusuke said confidently, sliding the window shut. “And yes, he used to suffer from it, after he was interrogated by the police and locked up on a false charge. But he has overcome it, with time and care,” he shot a look at Goro, who swiftly avoided his eyes. 

“I don’t have PTSD,” he scoffed, holding the compress to his forehead. 

“My mistake, then.” Yusuke said, unimpressed, sitting on a chair close to the bed. “Are you in pain? Can I get you anything?”

Goro did not answer for a while, releasing a quiet, subdued sigh into the towel. Finally he muttered something non-committal, falling back to the pillows with a dull thud. 

They shared that sticky, uncomfortable silence, Goro still hiding his face in the towel. His pale, ghostly hand was trembling slightly on his forehead. 

“Are you alright…?” 

Yusuke’s voice was soft. Worried.

“I saw you once, you know,” Akechi said in a distant voice, pulling the cloth away from his face. “On TV. You were giving some sort of an interview on a morning show… there was Kawanabe there, too. The one and only time I went to town during these two years, and I had to see _one of you_ on the screen.” 

“Which town was that?” Yusuke asked quietly, observing the strange longing that painted itself on Akechi’s face. 

“You were wearing a suit,” Goro continued as if he didn’t hear him. “A black suit and a black, wide tie.” 

“Ah,” Yusuke grimaced, “not the most flattering combination, I seem to remember that…” 

“You looked like an orphan,” Akechi said bluntly, “It was too big on you, the trousers too long, the shoulders… so square, and _massive_ ,” He scoffed. “Why did they allow you to go in like that is beyond me. Even if they were aiming for the ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ setup… it simply didn’t work.” He shook his head against the pillows. “I’m glad you learned.”

With how icy Akechi’s voice was, it didn’t feel much like a praise. “I... admit I had to put in significant effort in that area,” he acquiesced. 

“You’ve changed.” Akechi said, staring upwards on the ceiling, where the star stickers shone dimly with the remaining traces of fluorescent paint; Yusuke followed his gaze. 

“Well, you are different than I remember, too.” 

Akechi took in a long, laboured breath, his lungs protesting with a raspy cough. He scrambled to raise himself up on one elbow, and Yusuke came to his side, passing him a glass of water; he accepted and drank greedily, then had to lie down again, exhausted, his lips glistening with moisture. He sniffled and looked straight at Yusuke.

“Kitagawa-kun. Don’t you think it’s quite enough? Tell me why are you doing this.”

Yusuke took the glass out of his hand and put it on the nightstand gingerly, carefully considering his answer. Akechi dove straight to the point; he should be equally straightforward.

“Because I feel this is the right thing to do,” he said finally.

“It’s not. You’re enabling him.” Akechi said, looking at him tiredly. “Why would you do that?”

“Enabling? No, I don’t think so. That notion would imply that he needs but an excuse to abandon me. While I know beyond any doubt that Ren Amamiya is not going to leave me.” Ignoring Akechi’s pointed look, he continued, bracing his slender hands on his knees. “But, that much is true, I am allowing him to act selfishly about you. I believe… that he has earned it.”

“Earned it, huh,” Akechi shook his head. “Kitagawa, are you really that stupid or do you simply not realize…”

“...you must be referring to the fact that you harbour feelings for each other.” Yusuke cut in abruptly. He knew that Akechi was trying to rile him up, and refused to fall for it. “I _do_ know about that.” 

“It is him who has feelings for me, to be exact,” Akechi amended. 

“Oh, forgive me, I keep forgetting that you are continuously indifferent by default,” Yusuke scoffed, straightening in the chair, “your credo being, human emotions are a liability.”

“Because they are. They allow others to manipulate you by betraying your weaknesses.” Akechi said slowly, carefully picking his words and visibly trying to make them less acidic than he normally would have. “And you, by agreeing to this stupid rescue plan, do exactly that. Show weaknesses. You let him do what he wants. You imply you are fine with his misplaced sentiment.”

For a split second Yusuke entertained the thought of simply ignoring this whole conversation. He could almost see the wall Akechi had put around himself, impermeable and made out of layers upon layers of unmoldable, hardened steel, not unlike the bulkhead that had once cut him off of the world of the living. Yusuke really had no wish to try and tear it down, attempting labour of truly Sisyphean nature, and anger welled up within him at the thought that he might have been expected to. 

But looking at how intently Goro was listening to him, how adamantly he wanted to make Yusuke reconsider, he suspected that if he left the discussion now, Goro would strike back later. So as reluctant as he was, Yusuke pinned him down with his eyes to give him his answer.

“I’m not ‘fine’, Akechi, but I am able to understand and accept his feelings,” he stated calmly. 

Goro wanted to say something, but Yusuke stopped him with a gesture, indicating he is not finished yet. 

He took a deep breath.

“...You were his wish. It was not to have you; not to cage you; not for you to fall in love with him. If that had been the case, Maruki would certainly make it so and conveniently erase any memory I had of Ren, so that I wouldn’t get in your way.” 

Akechi was lying perfectly still, but Yusuke could clearly see how the vein on his neck pulsed rapidly. 

“Instead… Ren wanted another chance for you,” he continued. “He wanted you to live, make your own choices, be able to try again and get what you want from life, on fair terms for once. He wanted you to be free, regardless of his own feelings.” Yusuke swallowed, blinked, mentally braced himself. “If that’s not... love… then I don’t know what is. And if that’s not art, then I’m not a painter,” he finished, shrugging awkwardly. 

Akechi blinked at him a couple of times. 

“Art?” He rasped.

“Yes. It’s possible to create art in more ways than one, it doesn’t narrow down to drawing lines on paper,” Yusuke sighed. “Way of life can be art. Loving another can be art. You can save two hearts and a small measure of this world by doing so.” His eyes grew distant and sad as he spoke.

“You are so naive it’s nauseating,” Goro said slowly, eyes still locked with Yusuke’s. “Human relationships do not work like that. It’s not some sort of magic, it’s mutual gain and habit, mostly; feelings are chemicals in the brain. Healing love doesn’t exist, and power of friendship is merely a fuel for yet another sentai story, a vehicle to sell more merchandise.”

“That’s rich, coming from someone whose sole existence in this world was even possible because of the love of another person,” Yusuke said seriously.

“What are you even talking about?” Goro groaned.

“I’m telling the truth,” Yusuke bridled. “You wouldn’t even be alive if it wasn’t for Ren. His feelings and the fact that he remained cognizant of you, of what you were, and how _you have a right to be_ , enabled you to wrench free from the Velvet Room. Maruki can confirm.” 

Goro stared for a full minute, mouth agape.

“Impossible.” 

“I’m not lying. You... still don’t remember anything?” Yusuke asked gently, leaning in to him slightly. Akechi shook his head. “You don’t remember… your cell?”

Akechi’s eyes went wide as he recoiled, a full-body shiver wrecking his frame. He looked away, trying to hide a sudden, very real fear that suddenly manifested on his face; he brought a hand to his forehead and quickly, irritably brushed a few strands of black hair away.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Goro said a bit too loud, trying to school his features into passivity. 

Yusuke didn’t press him. It must have come as quite a shock, to be honest. 

“So you’re doing this for him.” Akechi choked out after a while, his voice still shaken. 

“Yes.” Yusuke sighed. “I am. Truth be told... I feel guilty.”

Akechi looked at him in confusion, his brow furrowed.

“What about?”

Yusuke squirmed on the chair; his eyes had gone distant for a longer while and Akechi was fully convinced he was not going to answer, but he did.

“I could learn from him.” Yusuke said. “Ren… had not been my wish. While he should have been. All the while I dreamt about a patient master, who would take me in, teach me about art, guide my brush and fill my head with inspiration. I dreamt of losing myself in art. Of fulfilling my purpose. Never noticing that the only kind teacher that ever stayed true to me and to the nature of things had been Ren. All this time.” He took a deeper breath. “He should have been my wish… in every sense of the word. Instead, I ended up with an imitation… and I was perfectly complacent with it.”

“Well, to me it seems like you simply wished Madarame would stop beating the shit out of you.” Akechi sighed, rubbing his forehead. “A normal childhood. A regular home.”

“Your understanding of it is… shallow at best.” Yusuke arched his elegant, slim eyebrow, crossing his hands on his chest and leaning back in the chair again, that confident, irritating gesture Goro had noticed before.

“Oh? Has my research on Madarame been insufficient? Wasn’t he a violent, temperamental asshole, who liked them young?” Akechi’s eyes were burning, seeking something that Yusuke had long ago decided to lock up and never, ever let out. “Wasn’t he?”

“He was.” Yusuke swallowed visibly, enduring the stare. “But merely to spare myself had not been my wish.”

Akechi sighed in frustration, coughed a couple of times.

“I am of an opinion that Maruki really had done a shitty job with all that perfect reality.” His look slid towards the water pitcher standing on the nightstand; Yusuke caught on this, poured another glass and passed it to him carefully. “He had all the wishes jumbled up. You wanted unconditional love, ended up with a shitty imitation of a parent. I never asked for it, yet the doc took it as a point of pride to shove it down my throat.” 

“I never said Ren’s love was unconditional,” Yusuke said, watching Goro drink. “I only said it’s pure.”

“So you would allow for infidelity, in the name of applied art and love being pure?”

“I am taken aback with how little you managed to take out of this conversation,” Yusuke sighed, “and I believe it is pointless to pursue it any further, especially that you should eat something. I’ll go ask Ren for some mild curry for us, if that’s alright?” 

Goro gave him a grimace, clearly unsatisfied with how all of this had progressed; he wanted to argue further, but Yusuke stood up gracefully, turned on his heel and left him to battle his own thoughts. 


	8. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The news about Shido prove to be more devastating than anyone could have predicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. They include: suicide attempt, blood&gore, hand injury, description of medical procedures, hospitalization, mental and physical suffering. The triggering part will be marked by ///~*~/// at the beginning and end to make it easier to identify and skip if you wish to do so. Please employ your best judgement.
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTES:  
> I wanted to sincerely thank @RuneLyer, my beta reader, who managed to proofread this chapter for me even in such a busy time, (I know it was a lot! I appreciate it!)  
> and my honest gratitude to @CrystallineAce for all the patient advice and help with improving this chapter in terms of writing and conveying the ideas. You've been huge help!
> 
> Especially because this chapter was auch a challenge, I would like to hear your thoughts about it. Please leave me a review.   
> Thank you for reading!

**~*~**

  
The place Ren and Yusuke shared was located away from the city center, in one of the cheaper districts across the river, within a reasonable distance from Tokyo University of the Arts and a significantly longer commute to Yongen-Jaya. It was definitely _not_ a regular 1LDK. On the second thought, Goro should have known. 

The flat sat at the top of the repurposed office building like a swallow’s nest. Goro frowned at the unmistakable, strong scent of oil paint which greeted him upon entering. It was essentially a garret apartment, with a long, narrow _genkan_ , a bathroom and a small toilet awkwardly fitted in the corner. A long kitchen bar was placed on the far end, separating a kitchenette and the breakfast area from the rest of the floor; the unpainted, bare brick walls of the bedroom looked like they had been added there on a second thought, as if the designer hadn’t been sure if they’re even needed. 

There was no traditional _tatami_ on the floor, just warm brown, polished teak boards, like in western apartments. The grey concrete walls gave the place an industrial feel. There was scarcely any decoration - contrary to Goro’s expectations - but huge floor-to-ceiling windows more than made up for it, revealing the view of the city - the faraway Sky Tree overlooking the sea of office blocks adorned in neon blue, pink and white twinkling lights as far as the eye could see. 

“So, you exchanged one attic for another.” Goro commented dryly, scanning over the easels of various heights, empty canvases propped against the walls, painting supplies littering every available surface. He lingered longer on the finished wisteria landscape, which had been left exposed to dry. 

“It’s called a _loft_ ,” Ren muttered, tightly locking the front door, “and it’s kinda homely. You’re gonna love it.”

Goro stood in the middle of the living space completely swallowed up by Yusuke’s workshop and nudged the stray set of brushes in a linen casing with his foot. 

“Homely indeed,” he jabbed, undressing from the borrowed winter jacket, hat and scarf. Ren set their shoes right in the _genkan_ and quickly came to the rescue, taking the clothes from him and placing them in a clever hidden closet in the wall. 

“How did you even come upon this place?” Akechi looked around. “Looks like a custom design.”

“Kawanabe found it,” Ren said over his shoulder. “Yusuke wanted a place that’s not very fancy, but big enough to fit his workshop... Once he saw this, there was no coming back.” He smiled softly.

“I would say it’s a bit modern for Kitagawa.”

“Well, he does like traditional, but the view is worth it.” Ren flipped the light switch on, dimming the lights to a warm yellow. He led Akechi to a _kotatsu_ sitting next to one of the windows. “We don’t have _tatami_ , but there’s underfloor heating. It’s gonna be warm. Now sit and let me take a look at this...”

Goro sat down heavily on a pillow and took off his socks, revealing fiery red irritation on the skin and bloodied, burst blisters on his toes. It really wasn’t the best idea to walk on frostbitten feet; Ren winced at the memory of how Goro had struggled on his way here and how he’d stubbornly refused any help, choosing to clutch at the railings, walls or barristers instead.

“Let me bring some iodine,” Ren muttered and trotted to the kitchenette, where he produced a small basket of medicines from a cupboard and brought it over. 

“Couldn’t be helped,” Akechi said grimly. “Doesn’t matter. And I’ll do it myself.”

“Allow me…”

“I said, _I’ll. do it. myself._ ” 

Ren let his hands drop and sat down on the floor opposite Akechi. 

“Do you want something to drink?” He watched him go through the motions with his trembling fingers.

“Yes, please.”

Ren let him be. The silence weighed heavy on both of them, interrupted only by the steady whistling sound of the kettle heating. The lights of the city beneath them flickered and pulsed, thrumming with traffic as if it was one huge organism, overgrowing the land and spreading into the sea; Goro tore his eyes away from the window to take a better look around the room.

Workshop or not, the place looked way more inhabited and personal than his own apartment had ever been. In between the painting supplies there were items of everyday use scattered about. A dark blue bathrobe draped over the back of the chair; a half-finished cup of cold coffee right next to the dirty paint water. A yoga mat, neatly rolled up and put opposite the wall. A couple of novels and big format artbooks lying on the floor, some of them opened or with pages marked. Opposite the _kotatsu_ there was a small flatscreen tv, standing on a low shelf, which appeared literally sunken under dozens of DVD boxes and PS4 games. Akechi scouted out the titles; he did not recognize most of the games apart from the cult classics and a worn-out box for "Star Forneus", but he knew the movie titles. Mostly musicals. _“Sounds of music”, “Les Miserables”, “Singin’ in the Rain”._ Akechi raised an eyebrow. It was probably Yusuke’s choice. 

A bit on the right there was a box full of electronics, computer parts and tools, with a thin screwdriver and some tangled cables sticking out of it, and next to it a couple of packages wrapped in bubble foil, with neat handwritten tags of names and phone numbers. 

Ren emerged from the kitchen, put a mug of steaming hot tea in front of Akechi; following his eyes to the box, he hurried with an explanation.

“Just a side job,” he muttered quietly. “I fix PCs sometimes.”

_Is there anything you can’t do?_ Akechi thought grimly, deliberately ignoring the tea; Ren sighed and returned to the kitchen to pour his own cup. Sulky and uncomfortable, Goro kept glancing around the room until a very unusual object caught his eye. 

Partially hidden by the easels, on a separate little console near the wall there was a gramophone; a real, huge thing, not one of the modern, compact briefcase-sized adapters, but an antique, with an engraved horn and chipped off varnish on the wooden box it was attached to. Must have been expensive. A gift? A keepsake? It did look like something Yusuke would dig out of the depths of Madarame’s shack. Akechi’s eyes wandered further to the left, lingering on the finished painting; even he had to admit, it was stunning. 

He wondered briefly how many paintings Yusuke had finished here in this homely atelier and how high a price Kawanabe usually quoted for the works of his newest prodigy. But how much did Yusuke see by the end of it? Akechi had this dark suspicion it wasn’t a lot, and as inexperienced as Kitagawa was, he was probably blissfully oblivious to that fact.

There was a stack of empty canvases and some haphazard sketches done in pencil on big bristol sheets, but nothing finished apart from the landscape. Goro had imagined the walls would be littered with framed prints of Yusuke’s favourite artists or, God forbid, a multitude of Ren’s portraits. Yet the only thing that adorned the wall was Yusuke’s katana and Ren’s dagger, placed opposite each other, just above the door.

Akechi felt his hands curl forcefully into fists as he saw it. A sudden wave of heat engulfed him. _Stupid, stupidstupidstupid this is so stupid, what the fuck am I even doing here?_ This was _their_ space. They were making it clear to everyone who entered, claiming it, announcing ‘look, we’re gay together!’ like smitten, horny teenagers, bringing him here to mock him, to make him suffer their obnoxious happiness and goodwill, to feed it to him with every opportunity until he choked on it. He would rather be back under the cardboard right now; it would be so much easier to endure all of it, the uncertainty, the lack of intel, the fucking _pain_ in his limbs which was making him crazy, the blood coloring his piss pink, the head-splitting headache, all of it would not be half as bad if he just didn’t have to look at their love-muddled, stupid, fucking stupid _looks_ and _touches_ and hear them _bustling around_ the place...

And he just couldn’t even leave now, he had to fucking _wait_ , wait and sit here and _do nothing_ and wait for the news, and why is it even taking so long...! How can it be difficult for a skilled journalist to locate the biggest scum of Japan, a public persona who has just left jail, a former-almost-prime minister, for fuck’s sake, is everyone around him incompetent and an utter fool...? 

Suddenly there came a sound of a key being turned in the lock and Yusuke entered the flat, holding a paper box in his hands; with peripheral vision Akechi noticed Ren coming out of the kitchen and trotting to his side.

_Obedient puppy._ Akechi swallowed with effort; he stilled his trembling hands. He wanted to break something, badly.

_Get yourself under control._

“So? How was it?” Ren spoke to Yusuke with some apprehension, taking the box from him. “Did you see anyone following you?”

“No,” Yusuke shook his head, taking the thick, knitted scarf off. “Nothing suspicious. The neighbour stopped me; these are for you.” Ren glanced into the box to find chocolate mochi there and smiled briefly; Yusuke absolutely hated mochi. “How’s Akechi? Did you manage to…?”

“He’s... fine,” Ren said quickly, abruptly turning around at the sound of his cell ringing. He ran to pick it up from the kitchen bar, glanced at the screen; ‘Ohya’, he muttered to both of them and accepted the call, putting it on speaker.

_“Hey kid, I managed to find out something, like you asked,”_ the slightly slurred voice in the cell spoke, _“but it’s not much on such a short notice, you little bugger. It’s not like I can unearth this stuff on your whim, it takes time,”_ she whined, _“it was supposed to be my day off, too! I had to go through a dozen phone calls and couldn’t even drink properly...”_

“I’m sorry, Ohya, I owe you one,” Ren said supplicantly, “I promise I will make it up to you next time we see each other in the Crossroads. All of your drinks will be on me.”

_“Woo-hoo! Careful what you promise,”_ Ohya laughed shrilly, and Akechi rolled his eyes, getting up shakily and coming closer to the bar. Yusuke followed his example, having left his coat in the closet. _“But I will totally take you up on it, it’s a date! Haha-ha! By the way, Lala-chan sends her greetings, kid! Did you know that…”_

“Ohya, it’s kinda important,” Ren interrupted. “What did you manage to find?”

_“Oooh, okay,”_ she moaned. _“Sooo… listen. You can imagine how Shido’s release suddenly rekindled tensions and awoke mutual favour-paying in the political scene, right? Everyone who mattered owed him something, and now that he’s suddenly free, it was HIM who wanted something, and they all started shitting their pants for fear of being associated with him,”_ she started. _“The easiest solution was to bribe the media to be as quiet as possible about him and then ship him off somewhere.”_

“Well, it did seem strange, there was a major radio silence about him for two weeks straight,” Ren agreed.

_“But you can’t prevent all leaks, now, can you.”_ Ohya laughed. _“I got in touch with my old pal who’s more oriented in foreign affairs, and he told me that a certain appointed secretary of Japanese embassy was running errands back and forth between the resident mission and Shido’s humble abode. Apparently some arrangement has been made, because Shido left the country five days ago, all majorly hush-hush.”_

“He left Japan?!” Ren gasped, staring onto the screen and bracing himself on the bar. Akechi looked like he’d been slapped; he went white as a sheet. “Left where?!”

_“My source says the Japanese embassy in Kiev,”_ Ohya said. There was a glassy clink and the sound of a swallow following. _“He’s staying there, temporarily. And just wait, it gets better.”_

“But what for?! He cannot hold any public functions, especially in a place as restricted as a fucking embassy,” Ren bridled.

_“Nah, you don’t get it. It’s not about it. Disgraced politicians don’t go back to politics, dummy, they settle for careers in business or big industry,”_ Ohya explained in a slurry voice. _“And so it happens that there is a perfectly valid job opportunity for him there. Ever since Škoda withdrew from the plans of building a factory and a massive car park in eastern Europe two years ago, apparently because of unfavourable tax regulations and a big market for used, second-hand models from Germany or some shit - nevermind, anyway, Toyota got interested.”_

Yusuke frowned, struggling to make sense of her inebriated speech. Akechi held on to the bar with his head low and eyes closed; his jaw was clenched shut. He seemed to have a pretty good idea of what Ohya was going to say next. 

_“They have just opened a branch in Chernihiv, from where they aim to launch the production of semi-electric cars on the Russian, Belarusian and Polish market, not to mention the whole of Turkey. And guess what? They didn’t have a vice CEO until yesterday morning,”_ she added triumphantly. _“This is where the bastard went, to hug a nice, cozy post in reward of getting out of the way. It’s practically exile, though; he’s in the armpit of the world. Far away from civilization, the food is either cabbage or sausage, and the women don’t use deodorant. For holiday he can either buy a dacha and go there every week or go to a brothel in Krakow, but! He’s protected, earning money big time and he won’t mess up anybody’s public image.”_ She hiccuped. _“That’s all I know so far. This will be in the news soon enough, though, in the form of a… sort of shorthand to appease the public curiosity. I’m gonna dig deeper, give you some names, find out whom to thank… a lot of important guys must have owed him favours and I guess you’d like to know them,”_ She groaned quietly. _“But it’s gonna take me time. So that’s all for now, kid...”_ A yawn followed; Ren took the phone in hand and turned the speaker off.

“Thank you, Ohya. You’re an excellent journalist and my personal favourite,” he went on for a while to appease her, trying to finish the call quickly after that. She was really adamant on chatting some more, but he managed to excuse himself; in the complete silence that befell them, two sets of worried eyes rested on Akechi, who swayed lightly on his feet, staring into space. 

His hands slid from the bar surface; he looked like he’d been stunned. 

“What are you going to do now...?” Yusuke blurted out before he thought about it better. “Does Japan even have an extradition treaty with Ukraine…? How are we supposed to…” Ren gave him a quick sign to stop talking, seeing how all blood drained from Goro’s face and how he swayed on his feet. 

Akechi turned around slowly and sat back at the _kotatsu_ with his back turned to them. He did not answer.

**~*~**

Too late. Too late, he’s gone, gonegonegonegone, g o n e , and there is nothing I can d o now, failure, such a fucking f a i l u r e , he’s gone, gone, gone…

...too late, and 

how could I... 

f a i l e d h e r

such a fucking scum, I should just fucking DIE already, it’s the second time I tried this, **NO** EVERY TIME I TRY THIS such a pathetic, whiney, piece of shit…

( **me** , and)

“Goro?”

_He’s fucking gone._

“I ran a bath for you. It will be ready in five. Okay?”

The words reached him as if from another dimension. His ears were ringing, his head was full of cotton. 

“Goro, you’ve been sitting here for over an hour.” 

At the mention of the passage of time Goro stirred. He blinked, unfocused, trying to understand the words being spoken to him, cleared his throat in an attempt to catch a deeper breath. Someone knelt next to him, having enough of a sound mind to keep some distance and not try to touch him; Amamiya.

“Goro. Look at me, please.” Ren’s voice was quiet, hesitant, pleading. “You should prepare for bed. You’re about ready to collapse.”

Goro knew. It was difficult to stay upright by now.

“Do you… did you hear me?” A hand inched closer, spider-like, potentially dangerous. “There is a bath ready for you. Okay?”

He coughed quietly, forcing his throat to move, to unclench. He tore his eyes away from the hand on the floor.

“...Okay.”

“Are you fine with sleeping on a futon? The floor is a bit hard, but it’s going to be warm.”

“I’m. Fine.”

“Alright.” The hand retracted, disappeared from his line of sight. The air left his lungs with a bit more ease. Two figures moved behind Goro, exchanging some information, something about a high shelf and the futon. 

The wide strand of orange light pooled in from the bedroom door to the darkish loft, catching Goro’s attention; two slim, shadow figures reached up to the above head compartment, tugging on a big, rolled up lump of mattress, fitting tightly into whatever storage space had been designed for it. Goro matched the sounds of effort and shuffling to the activity, his brain making a sluggish connection of what the movement was supposed to achieve. The shadows got the rolled-up thing out, finally, falling a little back with two matching grunts, and set the futon on the floor; the taller one dug into the closet again to fish out some flat, square armful of items, passing it to the other one, then bent low to pick up something soft and fluffy and much smaller. The shadows stood there for a moment, facing each other. Waiting. A whisper reached Goro’s ears. 

I’m not going to lose you, am I? Never. Listen to me, never, you know- I know. Kiss me.

The shorter shadow dropped everything it was holding and moved closer. The spaces where their faces should be approached slowly, hesitantly; the tiny sliver of light separating them disappeared for a moment, the taller shadow leaned down into the embrace. 

Their foreheads remained touching as the two shadows swayed, the unnaturally long limbs merging into wider rays of dark against the orange lit background, moving to the sides slowly, flowing, careening. 

I can’t do it without you. 

The taller shadow’s hand moved up, long, long fingers nestled in a crook of the other one’s arched neck. 

I’m right here.

Goro felt something in his chest going hollow. He was quite sure he drew a breath, but he could not feel it in his lungs. There was a void behind his sternum. A gaping hole. It spread down to his stomach, to his abdomen; it seemed to melt down with him, trickle to the floor, splatter it with his insides, drag any bit of feeling out of him, leaving him empty. 

~~anger~~

  
(You can never be like that.)  
(He will never want you that way.)  
Screw you, Screw YOU,  
  
_I n a d e q u a t e_

_Failure, failure, failure._

“Akechi, the water is ready. I’ll prepare a bed for you. There is a spare toothbrush in the cabinet, okay? You can use it.”

He rose mechanically, not feeling his limbs. A towel was pushed into his hands; he accepted without a word. His muscles moved. One movement at a time. One foot in front of the other.

**///~*~///**

The weird stupor seemed to relent gradually at the sensation of water flowing down his back and legs. He calmed down his shaking hands, focusing them on a task; lather up, rub, rinse. Scratch the scalp. Get rid of all the grime. As great as it was to be clean again - he _did_ spend a good part of the day hugging a fucking dumpster - Goro felt really tired, to the point of almost foregoing the warm bathwater, but he logically knew he should soak for at least a couple of minutes, for the sake of his sore muscles and frostbites.

The water was hot, but not as hot as he liked it. Rationally he knew it was better this way, even if it wasn’t as comforting as it should be. Goro sat down in the square, small bathtub and brought his knees to his chest. Ten minutes, no more; ten minutes, then he’s out. Then sleep. Then…

What then?

There was no way, _practically_ no way to get to Shido now. Unless he could magically obtain a large sum of money, fly to Europe undetected and extract information with sign language. They were all just fucking crackling there, not speaking; these weren’t even words, just some random consonant clusters and guttural grunts. Besides… 

What a fucking mess. 

Where was he supposed to go? 

He couldn’t stay here.

What was he meant to do with himself? He had always wanted this scum to be out of his life, and now that he had finally disappeared for good and probably beyond any chance of bothering him ever again, Goro lost all purpose he might have ever had. Even when he had been hiding, those two years had felt strangely temporary, as if shit was supposed to go down anytime and he should be always ready, always on standby, prepared to spring into action. As long as Shido was in prison, his heart changed and sorry ass clad in a penitentiary overall, Goro could sleep fine. And if he ever got out, Goro would make sure to put him down again. He could live with this plan, remove himself from everything and everybody and commit his existence wholeheartedly to making Shido’s life as miserable as possible; but now that he actually tried…

Shido, even disgraced and prosecuted, had outwitted him with more ease and faster than Goro managed to react, using the same connections he had relied on before. Taking favours from the same people who had worked with him. Change of heart, public opinion or justice didn’t mean shit. 

Akechi thought he had gotten his revenge - but the truth was, he was only deluding himself. This was frankly pathetic. A total disaster.

Not waiting for the allotted ten minutes to pass, he got up. Even if the cramp in his abdomen seemed to loosen a tiny bit in the hot water, he was dizzy and the frostbites were starting to sting, which unnerved him. He grabbed a towel to dry himself off, then pulled on some thin, grey sweatpants and another loose T-shirt. Probably Ren’s.

There was supposed to be a spare toothbrush, they said; Akechi opened a cabinet above the sink in search of it, but his inquisitive eyes fell on an elegant, black wooden box, sitting neatly on a shelf. 

It was a professional-looking shaving kit, with an engraved brass plate on the cover. 

_You’re a man now, so you will be needing this. Happy 20th birthday, Sōjirō_

Goro reached for the case. Opened it. Put aside the fluffy shaving brush and picked up a neatly folded razor. 

He inspected the lacquered handle in fascination, then opened the blade slowly, staring at how beautiful it looked; how glistening and impeccably sharpened it was.

The blade shook and sang quietly in his hand. 

  
_I am_  
_a f a i l u r e_

(Cursed.) _NO_

_...at my limit anyway_ ~~hesitate~~?

  
Don’t waste precious time... 

Goro glanced around the bathroom critically. He wouldn’t want to leave a mess. 

The bathtub… no, the bathtub was out of the question.

At least he was dressed.

Goro closed the cabinet with a quiet click and stepped back into the wet shower floor. 

This should do. Straight to the drain, not much trouble wiping it all down afterwards. 

He sat down. He would fall over anyway. Might as well get comfortable. The floor was wet, but warm.

Left or right? He inspected his hands. Seemed more natural to use his dominant hand to cut the other.

But for some reason...

Left. 

The cut was surprisingly not painful.

...His right hand trembled as he dug the blade into his forearm - vertically, from his wrist to the inside of the elbow - but he managed to finish it with little resistance. In the wake of the blade opening his skin and tissue, ruby pearls of blood welled up in the incision and fell on the floor in abundant rivulets, dark and thick, staining his clothes and the sleek, white tiles; he watched them with pure fascination. 

Goro felt a wave of relief washing over him. He could finally breathe again. The pressure on his windpipe was gone, even though his heart was hammering in his chest like crazy. The pain hit him only after a while, gaining on intensity, making him gasp; it was nothing he couldn’t take, though. 

Pain has always been manageable.

His vision swam as he shakily pressed the razor into his left palm and tried to do the other hand, but his fingers wouldn’t listen. After just a shallow cut something sort of… snapped and the blade fell from his awkward grasp, making a loud metallic noise on the floor.

Ah, no matter. 

This will do fine.

A weary sigh escaped him. He slid down into a more comfortable position, let his head fall back on the brim of the bathtub. 

The pain pulsated sharply in his hand, but his whole body and mind seemed to gradually unfurl with relief. Descend somewhere cool and quiet. Go limp with every wave of crimson pouring out of him. 

Goro sighed again, enjoying how good a breath feels in his lungs for the last time. 

The bright light of the bathroom was hurting his eyes, so he closed them.

The heart slowed down a bit. 

He could feel the heavy thumps reverberating in his ribcage. The muscle was still working to pump up the oxygen through his body. Struggling with less and less precious blood circulating in his veins. 

His limbs were becoming heavy.

“...Goro? You OK in there?”

A knock on the door disrupted his trance. He only frowned, unwilling to move. So tired... 

Should he respond? Delay them…? 

(You don’t care.)  
 _I don’t care._

The knocking repeated itself, louder. 

“Goro, you probably shouldn’t sit in the water for too long,” the voice called again, “do you need any help?”

  
_I don’t, really._ (Never did.)

  
“Goro? Can you answer me?”

The rest was just a blur.

**~*~**

None of the noise that accompanied the fight with a bathroom lock that refused to be picked, none of the shocked gasps and shouting made any sense to Goro. There were hands on him, patting his face and splashing cold water on it, and other hands, yanking his slashed hand up above his head, wrapping it tightly in a towel, clamping both palms down on the wound, so hard it _hurt_. More shouts, and a while later something was tied just below his elbow, and another tight and unpleasant clamp forced on his upper arm, trapping the blood flow and cutting off circulation. There was a short, ripped, panicked phone call.

“Goro, Goro, wake up, LOOK AT ME!” Hands on his face again, cupping both cheeks and lifting his head upward. “Open your eyes! Don’t you fucking dare do this to me!”

Stop yelling, Goro thought, his head lolling to the side. 

A sudden slap shocked him awake. 

“Goro, talk to me! Say something!” Ren. It was Ren. Of course it was Ren. 

Crying?

“...what,” Akechi blinked at him through his swimming vision.

“Why the fuck did you…” he sobbed, patting his face again, gently this time. His hands rested on both sides of Goro’s neck now, constricting his range of movement, but he fought to move away, to be able to look at anything but this well-known, dear face contorted in a grimace of pain. 

He glanced to his left; a tall figure stood above him, knees buckling, holding on to his hand through the towel, previously white, now crimson and dripping. Yusuke’s hands were stained with blood - _his blood_ \- almost up to his elbows. He kept squeezing down with force and determination, blinking away the tears running down his face, catching shallow breaths like a fish. He was standing there supported by sheer willpower, shaking like a leaf in the wind and whining quietly. 

What a sight. Akechi turned his eyes away in shame and confusion. 

“Goro, stay with me,” Ren called, turning his face back at him and splashing more water on his forehead and neck. “Goro. You need to stay conscious. Fight it, please, fight it… Can you hear me? Answer me!” he demanded.

“Y-es.”

“Good, good, tell me something, stay awake… Hegel! Remember Hegel?” Ren shook him against the bathtub and Akechi’s shoulder blades collided with its edge, making him wince. “Hegel, you could talk for hours about that cuckoo, what did he write again? Give me a title,” Ren said, and Akechi couldn’t help but huff out a short, tolerant laugh. 

He gave Ren a surprisingly fond look. How could it be; Ren’s handsome face was red and very, very ugly.

“Let me go,” Goro whispered quietly. “Why won’t you just… let me go.”

Ren choked on a sob. 

“No, for fuck’s sake, NO! I am DONE letting you go! I’m not doing that ever again, you hear me?! Akechi, I’m fucking serious, don’t you dare die on me now,” Ren shook him angrily, yelling, “No matter how many times you tell me to, I am not letting you go again!”

Akechi frowned, trying to keep the treacherous tears at bay. He bit down on his bottom lip, hard, but it didn’t help.

“I… hate you,” he mewled, feeling that Ren gathers him up in his arms and presses their tear-streaked faces together, cheek to cheek. “...I hate you.”

“I hate you too,” Ren cooed quietly to his ear, rocking back and forth. Yusuke shook quietly above them. 

Akechi allowed himself to be held. 

As the paramedics arrived, Yusuke heard them first and yelled at the top of his lungs that the doors are open. They went straight towards the source of this panicked, hoarse voice; two young men in blue protective clothing, carrying bags of medical equipment. 

“Good job, boys,” one of them praised, kneeling in front of Goro and appraising his hand, secured with a belt and a scarf above the cut to prevent bleeding out. “Okay, we’ll take this from here. Good job, you two.”

Ren reluctantly stepped away from Akechi to give the man some room to work; Yusuke, on the other hand, clawed at the wound with twice the power.

“Let go. It’s alright. I’ve got this,” the paramedic told him gently, taking a hold of the limb. Yusuke shook his head furiously.

“No, no, if I let go, _he will die_!” he said through the tears, his eyes round and dilated in panic, speaking to the man as if he had to convince him, explain this somehow. “I _can’t_ let him go! _He will die_ , and he _cannot_ die, I _won’t let him_!” 

“It’s okay, I’m here to make sure that he doesn’t,” the man spoke, calm and under control. “I’ll help him. But you have to give me some space, yes? Now let go, on three. I’ve got this. Listen: one, two, _three_.”

Yusuke did let go, stumbled backwards, straight into Ren’s arms. He dragged him out of the small bathroom and allowed the other paramedic in, hugging his boyfriend tightly. 

It didn’t take long at all; a small hushed conversation later an injection was administered and the belt was replaced by a proper tourniquet. The first paramedic lifted Goro up from the wet and bloodied floor as if he weighed nothing. He settled him down on a stretcher; the other one gathered the medicines and equipment back to the bag, ripped the package of a thermal blanket and wrapped the foil around Goro. 

He was conscious; silent and unresisting, he kept staring at Yusuke as if he saw him for the first time in his life. His eyes were blown wide in disbelief and he just kept staring, as the paramedics strapped him down to the stretcher and proceeded to move him out of the flat.

“Which hospital…?” Ren asked.

“Tokyo Metropolitan Bokutoh,” the second man supplied. “Don’t drive in this state, okay?”

“Okay,” Ren nodded quickly. Akechi made a small sound, as if he wanted to call out his name; but the paramedics were already at the door.

“What’s his name?” The first man asked, busy assessing the doorstep, careful not to jostle the patient too much. 

“Goro,” Ren said quietly. “His name is Goro.”

**///~*~///**

The time they had spent waiting in a small waiting room ascribed to the immediate rescue wing of the hospital stretched out until 3 a.m. Yusuke had given up some time ago, succumbing to his exhaustion after working so late yesterday night, and dozed off, using Ren’s shoulder as a pillow. Ren draped the coat over him for warmth and kept one arm around his waist to make sure he didn't fall. He tried to focus on taking comfort from the steady huff of breath on his neck, the sound of his heartbeat and involuntary twitch of his fingers. He kept looking at his eyelashes, casting an elongated shadow over his cheekbones; it was either that or staring into the void of the hall stretching out in front of him, sealed from them by means of a wide, glass door. 

For the life of him, Ren could not sleep. 

He kept seeing that bloodied bathroom every time he closed his eyes to as much as blink. Every time a nurse or a hospital orderly came by, he was ready to jump on his feet. All the noises and hospital sounds and doors creaking were unbearable, making him anxious and sick to the stomach. People came and went, some happy and relieved, some dispirited and unresponsive. Some were able to get news of their loved ones, some had to go home after having been told they have to be more patient and they should get some sleep.

Finally there was no one else waiting in the small room with them; the silence and lack of any information was starting to really get to Ren. His foot was tapping the floor in an erratic, fast rhythm; suddenly he wished for Morgana and his warm, calming weight on his lap. 

After what seemed to be forever, a surprised nurse stopped at the entrance of the waiting room and gave him a confused glance. 

“What are you still doing here?” She asked. “You should go home, get some sleep! If the doctor didn’t come to talk to you, there is no other update to share,” she said in a tired, a bit sleepy voice.

“But we didn’t get any update at all,” Ren muttered, gently pushing Yusuke to an upright position. He stirred immediately.

“Hmm?” He groaned, still half-asleep. “Any news?”

“And… you are here for whom?” The nurse arched an eyebrow, coming closer and checking something on a clipboard.

“The... suicide attempt? A boy my height, black hair, brown eyes? He was brought in this evening,” Ren explained, his voice getting desperate. 

“Oh I see...” the nurse nodded in understanding, “He was admitted without any documents as an anonymous victim, that’s why no one came up to you… are you family?” 

“No,” Yusuke shook his head in clear worry. Of course. They wouldn’t want to give any information to non-family members. “We were with him when that happened. He’s a friend,” Yusuke said adamantly.

“He doesn’t have any family,” Ren added. “We’re the only ones he has.”

The nurse was looking at them with sympathy, but a small ‘tch’ let them know that she doesn’t want to or isn’t allowed to disclose any details. Ren got up from his seat.

“Please, just tell us if he made it. That’s all I wanna know, please. Please.” He made a move as if he wanted to catch her hand, but restrained himself; she took pity on his exasperation and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head. Yusuke got up too and approached with a pleading look in his eyes. 

The nurse sighed, as if pondering something; ‘Alright’, she muttered finally and made a small gesture meant for them to follow. 

“I’ll let you in, on my responsibility; but only because it is an exceptional situation. And don’t tell anyone,” she started to walk briskly through the corridors to lead them into a respective ward. She beeped the heavy door open; Ren caught a glimpse of the writing on it, saying ‘Intensive Care Unit’. 

“You cannot stay long. He is asleep, anyway, so you won’t be able to talk. He required several units of blood, and there are a lot of coexisting ailments, which is unfortunate… but his life is no longer in danger. He’s going to be alright.” She said, stopping in front of a single room; apparently Goro was kept in isolation. They were told to disinfect their hands and allowed in.

The room was pretty dark, lit mostly by monitors, beeping quietly from time to time.

“What did you say his name was?” The nurse asked, reaching for the metal notepad placed at the foot of the bed.

“Goro,” Ren answered, approaching the bed on wobbly legs. 

“Last name?”

Yusuke and Ren exchanged troubled looks. _Shit_. They didn’t think of that at all. The nurse lifted her head up expectantly.

“...Akechi,” Ren admitted reluctantly. “Goro Akechi. He had been missing until today. He just showed up and… he came looking for help, and I- we...”

“You did all you could,” the nurse said seriously. “It’s a deep, serious cut. It was not a drill. Only your quick action saved his life. He will definitely require another surgery; he’s cut several tendons and there is nerve damage, too. ”

“A...surgery?” Yusuke muttered, suddenly terrified. “This is his dominant hand…”

“Then the sooner it takes place, the better. But that’s a discussion for a bit later,” the nurse smiled reassuringly, “when he feels less… agitated. You may be able to get through to him on that matter. Will you be here tomorrow, by any chance?”

“I’ll be here,” Ren nodded quickly. “What happened, he… refuses treatment?”

The nurse hummed in response. “He was pretty obnoxious about that.”

“Ma'am, about that,” Ren stammered uncomfortably, “He might be… he might cause trouble, he’s not exactly the... easiest person…”

“Oh, trust me, he gave us plenty of trouble. That’s why he’s sedated.” The nurse smirked. “But don’t worry too much, it is in big part a result of the shock; once it wears off, he might be more amenable. Are you three close?”

“Yes,” Yusuke answered quickly, to Ren’s surprise. He was hovering above Goro’s bed, looking at the prostrate body clad in a hospital gown. His eyes scanned the outstretched arms, registering all the details as if he wanted to commit them to memory. The left hand was heavily bandaged and propped on a special pillow, hollow in the middle for better accomodation of the limb. The fingers were wrapped up too. A large PVC port sat embedded in the inside of his right hand elbow, and the complicated device was attached to a drip-bag with some clear solution, hung above the bed on a metal rack. 

“I’ll give you two a moment.”

Ren came up to the other side of the bed. Goro looked bad. Really bad. 

Yusuke lifted a hand and tenderly brushed his knuckles over the pale cheekbone, his expression unreadable. 

“He would rip my arm off,” he muttered, deep in thought.

There were several questions on the tip of Ren’s tongue, but the tiredness was rapidly winning, especially that sweet relief washed over him upon hearing the news, replacing the adrenaline high he had been running on up to this point. It almost knocked him over. Akechi would live. He was safe, even if only for the night; he would live. Ren wasn’t sure if they did the right thing, bringing him into a hospital, but he knew there was little choice on the matter, and none of that really mattered compared to the sheer relief of knowing that he would live.

Ren recalled how Akechi had been burrowing in the covers before, so he reached for the beige, fluffy blanket on top of him and with Yusuke’s help tucked the heavily bandaged hand underneath. He pulled the cover up all the way to Goro’s chin; he thought that Akechi might get cold otherwise. 

“Everything is going to be alright,” Ren whispered. It seemed important to say that. “Sleep now. You’re safe.” 

“We’ll be here tomorrow when you wake up, Goro,” Yusuke added, smoothing the blanket out unnecessarily. Ren smiled involuntarily; their eyes met above the hospital bed. It was probably the first time Yusuke referred to Akechi this way.

“I held his life in my hands, I think I am entitled to use his first name,” Yusuke explained with a tired smile. Ren was forced to agree; he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and laced their fingers together. Yusuke held on tightly. 

“It binds you, doesn’t it?” Ren asked in a knowing voice. “In this strange, powerful way.”

“It would be folly to deny it,” the artist sighed, allowing their hands to rest on Goro’s chest. 

Akechi slept on, unaware; the monitor beeped steadily from time to time, making the only sound in the otherwise silent, dark room.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have locked my twitter in order to avoid shistorms, but if you wish to follow me and stay updated on my writing, just message me please. @GreyPigeon4


	9. Reverie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi wakes up in the hospital. He realizes he made his own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a LONG chapter after a LONG wait, and it has a LONG list of warnings. These include:
> 
> Hospitalization, a lot of medical terms & description of serious health issues, medical procedures, needles, IVs, meds, all the package. References to suicide (past and present, more than one character) and suicide ideation. Implied/referenced abuse, some gore (in flashback). References to institutionalization. Please, please, please curate your own experience. Since I couldn't divide this clearly this time to make it easier for you guys to skip the pars you wouldn't want to read, check out the End Notes for more warnings. 
> 
> This has been beta-read by [Cannikira Agenda (Crystalline Ace)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallineAce/pseuds/Cannikira%20Agenda)
> 
> I still can't believe how much work went into proofreading and editing of this chapter. I'm really grateful for it! Also, a good part of Ren's characterization has been done with Ace's help. Thank you!
> 
> I recommend you check out the AU that is Ace's brainchild. :)
> 
> As always, I would really appreciate the feedback. Fasten your seatbelts, Akechi's waking up.

Ren was thankful they managed to get to the hospital before Akechi woke up. 

It must have been the pain that forced him out of the drug-induced sleep; he started to toss and turn a good hour before actually regaining consciousness, giving out small groans and catching more frequent, interrupted breaths with his opened mouth. Using the last moments of time when the sedatives held sway, Ren stroked Goro’s matted hair, dyed black for disguise and completely neglected these days. He moved slowly in a reassuring, gentle manner, hoping that Akechi’s confused brain would interpret it correctly and draw some comfort from the gesture. 

Yusuke slept in the other armchair opposite Ren. The artist’s back was arched in a bizarre way; he had his bum still seated in the armchair, while the upper body rested on the edge of the hospital bed, with his face hidden in the crook of his arm. Ren reached out to scratch his scalp gently and wake him.

“Mmm-hmm...?” the artist muttered, opening one eye. Seeing Akechi stirring, Yusuke sat up straight immediately, rubbing his face with both hands in an attempt to chase the sleep from his tired eyes. He moved the chair closer to the bed, stretched his aching back and glued an expectant look on Akechi. 

A frown of pain appeared on Goro’s forehead and a visible cramp clutched at his body. He moaned quietly.

“Goro,” Ren called gently, “...it’s ok. You’re safe. Don’t try to move yet. You’re going to be alright.”

Akechi’s eyes fluttered open and he took a slow, disoriented look around the hospital room, lingering a couple of long seconds on Ren and then on Yusuke; the breath hitched in his lungs and he glanced toward his left hand, which jerked under the covers. He tried to lift his right one, the fingers curled dangerously with a clear intention to claw at the constricting bandage, but Yusuke grasped his arm and made a shushing sound, pressing it down to the mattress.

“W-what… Where am I…” Goro rasped, his head lolling on the pillow, whole body squirming.

“You’re in the hospital, Metropolitan Bokutoh,” Ren explained quietly, brushing his fingertips on Goro’s pale forehead. “You had a transfusion and they had to patch up your hand. But you’re going to be alright. It’s okay now, Goro. You can relax.” 

Akechi stared at him, rigid and unmoving, clearly having trouble understanding the words.

“...Oh,” was all he came up with. Ren gave him a small smile and another tiny caress; Goro didn’t move away, which was probably a good sign, but his injured hand kept twitching under the blanket and he was clearly fighting a spasm of pain in his stomach. His knees came up and he rolled slightly to the side, trying to loosen up the muscles; he focused on breathing for a moment, willing his body to calm down. 

“You’re both here.” He said finally, closing his eyes with a long exhale. Yusuke was still holding his right hand; he felt Goro’s fingers nudge his own, and he enveloped them in a careful hold.

“Of course we are.” He said. “How are you feeling?”

Goro looked at him with a more lucid expression. His frown slowly started to disappear.

“I’m okay. But... you?” He asked seriously.

Yusuke raised his eyebrows; that question was the last thing he’d expect. 

Ren shook his head with a sigh, brushing some errant hairs away from Akechi’s forehead. “You gave us a fright, Goro,” he muttered. Akechi looked down and away, and something like guilt flashed on his face for a moment. “Don’t think about it. Focus on getting back on your feet, okay? Are you in any pain? The nurse will be here in a moment, she will give you something.”

Goro didn’t answer; he just stared at the far corner of the room for a while, still not shying away from the hand stroking his temple in a predictable, steady pattern.

“You are... mad at me.” Goro whispered with a hint of surprise in his voice. 

Ren paused. His fingers trembled over the greasy hair, so he took the hand away, unwilling to let Goro feel it.

“I, uh… I don’t think so,” he whispered tiredly. “I’m just glad you opened your eyes, you know?”

Ren was pretty sure that Goro was going to drop some acerbic response or tease him about being soft and stupid, but he just closed his eyes in resignation and soon relaxed into the mattress, surrendering to the minute sensation of Yusuke’s fingers gripping his palm. The touch was weird, too delicate, as if the limb was glass, as if it was outside the boundaries of what Yusuke was allowed to do. 

Akechi might have dozed off for a couple of minutes more, allowing the two men to flank his bed and watch over his sleep. His features loosened, breath came a bit more naturally. The left hand stopped fidgeting. The room fell completely silent once again.

A nurse entered soon enough though, interrupting their moment; Yusuke sprung to his feet to give her space to work and circled the bed to the place where Ren was standing. Upon the commotion, Goro jerked awake.

“How are we doing today?” she asked cheerfully, checking something on the clipboard. Ren recognized her, it was the same woman from yesterday; she was in her fifties, rather short and petite, with thin black hair neatly pulled into a practical bun. She moved briskly and with intent, a competent, no-nonsense aura surrounding her. “You look a bit better, so at least there’s some improvement; how much does it hurt?”

Goro didn’t answer and flinched from her as she tried to take his vitals. He took his right hand away quickly, holding it closely to his body and hiding the IV port from view; he practically curled on his other side, facing Ren, refusing to as much as look at the woman. She stood there with a mock-hurt expression, holding a fresh batch of saline solution in her hands.

“Still not cooperative, I see,” she replaced the clear bag of fluid on the rack. “But at least not kicking and biting, huh? Progress.” She teased with a quirk of her sharp eyebrows, resting her hand on the narrow hip clad in white. “Look, I know it’s not ideal; I know you’re in pain, but I’m going to have to replace the drip, it'll help you feel better. Can I have your hand?” She asked patiently. Goro stiffened and shut his eyes in a desperate attempt to block out the world.

“Goro,” Ren spoke softly. “It’s just an IV. It’s medicine, you need it.” Still no. “Just a standard isotonic fluid, right?” Ren turned to the nurse.

“The most common, plain solution of sodium chloride with water, some nutrients and vitamins,” she said with an indulgent eye roll. “The doctor will be doing rounds in half an hour, any medicines or antibiotics will be administered specifically on his prescription.”

“You hear that?” Ren leaned in, put a hand on top of Goro’s right wrist. “It’s just to help with dehydration. Just an IV. No one had tampered with it, I swear. Give her your hand.” 

Goro refused to look, probably mentally berating Ren for infantilizing him, but at least he didn’t start clawing as his hand was pulled. He opened his eyes minimally, paying close attention to what the nurse was doing with peripheral vision. 

“Just be brave, Akechi,” Ren teased with a cheeky grin. “You know, like Robin Hood! Come on.”

“Fuck you, Amamiya,” came immediate furious response and Ren beamed calmly at the nurse, while Yusuke rolled his eyes.

“...Back to his old self,” Ren said. The nurse actually laughed; Goro reluctantly gave up the struggle and offered her his hand, making a big production out of it. If looks could kill, there would be three dead bodies in the room.

“I know it must be uncomfortable right now,” the nurse said gently, attaching the tubing to the fresh drip bag and regulating the tiny valve, “but the port had to go in the inside of your elbow, they couldn’t find a good vein anywhere else. I expect it will soon be taken out though, or at least moved to the top of your hand. That will be more comfortable.”

Goro muttered something non-discernable in the general direction of the door. 

“On a scale from one to ten, how bad is the pain?” She asked kindly.

“...Six.” 

“Okay. I’ll bring you something. I understand you would prefer a pill than an injection? Though it would work faster.”

“A pill.” 

“Alright. Try to get some more rest then, and when the rounds start, your friends will have to leave.”

That zapped Goro awake like nothing else before and he scrambled to a sitting position as fast as he could. 

“No, I need them to stay,” he said apprehensively. “I want them to be informed about my condition. Can I sign the form…? Before the rounds?”

The nurse smiled at him kindly.

“That _can_ be arranged,” she said, nodding. “Though a single ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt you.” She put the metal clipboard back on the bedframe and smiled at Ren and Yusuke, taking her leave.

“...Did you _bite_ her?” Ren asked incredulously when he was positive she couldn’t hear him.

“...I may have.” 

“And… what did you think that’d do, exactly?” The corners of Ren’s mouth twitched upwards.

“Don’t fucking talk to me.” Goro turned his head away. “Stop treating me like a child. What do you know? Anything can happen here, they can do whatever they want with me, I’m a sitting duck! And what did you tell them my name was?” He asked venomously.

Ren and Yusuke exchanged wary, uncomfortable looks.

“Great. Amazing.” Goro scoffed. “Geniuses. Holy shit,” he laughed humorlessly, flushing on the neck. “I just… no, you know what, get out. I don’t want to see you here. Get the fuck out and don’t come back.” 

“Akechi-kun, you’re not thinking clearly. What were we supposed to tell them, on such a short notice? What would be believable?” Yusuke interjected, putting a steady hand on Ren’s shoulder, unmistakably sensing his distress. 

“Literally _any lie whatsoever_! Or you could say you don’t really know me!” Akechi raised his voice considerably. “Or even better, you could have just NOT come here at all! Buggered off!” 

“Akechi, please stop yelling,” Ren warned, tossing a glance to the corridor through the window of the hospital room. “And calm down before you have us thrown out of here for getting you agitated. You’re right that they can overrule your sayso and sedate you again, so please, try to stay calm.” 

Akechi snarled. “I swear to God, you’re so stupid I can’t believe it! Stay calm?! The people who were following me will know I’m here, if they haven’t figured it out already! They’ll find me, and they’ll find you too, and I have no way of knowing what’s going to happen then, so you _have to leave_ ,” Goro insisted.

“Fine, let them come. We’d love to be acquainted.” Yusuke said calmly, stepping closer to the bed.

“Are you fucking simple?!” Akechi’s voice was tinged with frenzy as his eyes darted from Yusuke to Ren. “Amamiya, just get him out of here, and get lost yourself!”

Yusuke made a dismissive sound, visibly wounded. “If your main concern is for my safety, then I assure you, I am—”

“—completely unaware of what you’re up against, thinking this is still some stupid Metaverse bullshit, where you’d have an upper hand!” Akechi shouted, completely disregarding the placatory gestures and nervous glances towards the door. “I’ve been on the run for two fucking years, this is _not_ a game!” 

“Akechi, we’re not leaving,” Ren stood up quickly and sat on the bed next to Akechi’s legs, reaching out to him. Goro flinched, but ultimately both his arms were incapacitated and he couldn’t effectively push him away. “We are not stepping foot outside of this room. You don’t want us to leave, you just asked the nurse to let us stay. You need me here, and I’m not going to leave you,” Ren’s hands rested firmly on Akechi’s shoulders. The tension was palpable, Goro’s eyes went wide and Yusuke could see that he was starting to tremble. As much as he knew that Ren was probably the only person to get through to Goro, he felt like maybe this was pushing it.

“Ren, give him some space,” he whispered, but the look he saw written across his boyfriend’s face was one of exhausted, unmovable determination. As if taking one step back was all it took for another disaster to strike.

“We had no choice but to call an ambulance,” Ren reasoned, “or you would’ve bled out. I told you years ago that I don’t want to be your hangman.”

“Y-you were _not_ , it w-was…” Akechi started to stammer. He was rapidly falling apart and it looked so foreign on his features that Yusuke felt the need to step back. He tactfully placed himself at the door, feeling like an intruder, praying for the nurse not to walk in on them like that.

“I brought you here, that’s on me, and I’ll do everything in my power to protect you now. Please, Goro. Allow yourself a moment of rest,” Ren’s hands clenched on the bony shoulders. “One moment. Please. You’re at your wit’s end. Just _stop_. If you don’t… Look, I don’t want to lose you.”

“I am n-not yours to begin with.”

“You were in my care and I failed you.”

“What…?” Goro scoffed. “You are an idiot. You are delusional. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Goro. Please.”

Akechi’s head fell to his chest; he looked like he was hanging in Ren’s grip, limbs dangling like those of a raddled doll. He didn’t respond.

“There is also the matter of your surgery. It has to be soon, or you might lose feeling in your dominant hand.”

“N-no.” Akechi shook his head sharply. “No surgery.”

“ _Akechi_ ,” Ren’s voice was really tired.

“No surgery. I cannot stay here that long.”

“I can’t help you at home. I can’t fix this.” Ren’s grip tightened.

“I’m _not asking you_ to fix this!” Goro’s head shot up. “And I can’t pay for it! I’m a nobody, I’m _missing_ , I don’t have insurance, the police… The police will show up to question me, to question _you_ , and… oh shit, no.” He moaned, realizing something.

“Let me worry about the insurance and the police,” Ren spoke calmly, moving to brush the uneven bangs away from Goro’s face in an attempt to catch his eyes. “I’ll make some phone calls. Everything will be alright.”

“No, it won’t, you moron,” Goro snarled aggressively. “They will lock me up in a looney bin. It’s a standard procedure after someone tried to off himself, on an involuntary basis!” he tried to push Ren away with his right hand, and the IV drip tube whipped across the bed. Ren winced as he felt his fingers close around his throat. Yusuke jolted to help him, abandoning his watchpost, but halted as he saw that Akechi didn’t really have the strength to do any harm. 

“No one will lock you up; it doesn’t work like that,” Ren completely ignored the hand clumsily pressing down his windpipe. “It’s just a consultation, and if you have a support system, they let you go! That’s why you can’t afford to fly off the handle!” He said, standing up and pressing Goro to the bed with all his bodyweight.

Akechi froze. He lowered his arm and slumped down on the pillows, shaking all over, struggling to grasp at the last shreds of self-control he still possessed. 

Ren breathed a sigh of relief, let go of Akechi’s shoulders slowly and sat beside him again. The thin, crumpled hospital gown was all skewed now, so Ren fixed it meticulously and covered Goro with the beige blanket, which fell past his hips during the commotion. For the longest time neither spoke a word, and Yusuke himself was afraid to move as much as a finger; one word too many, one misplaced, overly timid gesture and Akechi would flip out again.

“You will have the surgery, Goro.” Ren spoke finally. His voice shook slightly.

“I don’t want it.” Akechi whispered, his empty stare fixed on the far away window.

“It’s your left hand, Goro. Your dominant hand.”

“I don’t care.”

“You beat me at billiards with that hand. You won every darts match with that hand.”

“Yeah, I SHOT YOU with that hand!” Akechi shouted, turning to him abruptly.

Akechi’s eyes were hateful. Furious, openly antagonistic, questioning the very judgement of his interlocutor. Yusuke shuddered. The words hung in the air like a foul scent. They were designed to tip the scales, to force them to leave, to make them see no other way than to push him away. Was it genuine self-sabotage? A pitiful attempt to protect them? Yusuke did not know. _Leave, I’ll just do it again,_ those eyes seemed to say, _you’re insane for staying here a second longer_. Yusuke was afraid to swallow. He thought he could see Akechi’s eyes watering, but he wasn’t sure.

Ren didn’t answer for the longest moment - he just held this gaze, and that in itself was a feat. 

“Well I hope you did,” he said eventually, biting his lower lip. “I would be offended if you shot me with your right.”

Akechi’s face crumpled. “What…?”

“...You promised to take me seriously.”

Goro’s eyes were definitely lined with tears. He wouldn’t let them fall, of course - not him, not in front of witnesses, not even in these circumstances; his face went from chalky white to blotched red from the strain. He moved away from Ren, sharply, ostentatiously, as determined to avoid looking at him as he had been at pinning him down with his stare; he curled on his side, focusing only on breathing. In, out. Strained, abortive, and painfully conscious work of his lungs and chest muscles, in, out. In, out. Cold sweat glistened on his forehead. In, out.

Ren turned away, too; Yusuke could see his profile, the slight tremble of his lower lip, the betrayed expression he didn’t want to show. Deep creases cut through his forehead, his foot twitched nervously, bouncing up from time to time despite his will. Neither seemed able to offer anything, say something _right_ , and Yusuke just stood there, petrified.

When the nurse came in with the forms, Akechi’s face immediately morphed into a calm, unaffected, wax mask; he did what he could to even out his breathing. Judging from the nurse’s look, he obviously failed. He signed both forms with his right hand awkwardly, disregarding the way the IV dug into the bend of his elbow; in the sticky silence of the room, the nurse offered him assistance, but was met with overly polite refusal. Ren didn’t move to help him nor did he speak up, just sitting there on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and head hung low. 

Yusuke knew how close he was to collapsing; he could practically see the weight of guilt heavying his shoulders. He saw him at 4 AM in the bathroom, scrubbing the rusty, reeking, congealed tack from the tiles, choking on tears and refusing to stop moving until the last trace of carnage disappeared, only to collapse on the couch completely drained, still smelling of bleach, to catch a single hour of restless sleep. Yusuke tried to make him stop, tried to relieve him of this morbid obligation; it was unfair and unnecessarily cruel for Ren to be the one to clean up the blood. The once life-giving, circulating, indefeasible part of the person he loved brutally wasted, splattered all over the floor. But Ren wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t allow him to touch it, blocking the entrance to the bathroom with his own body. He wouldn’t agree to it being anyone else's responsibility.

“Thank you.” The nurse said, collecting the forms after Akechi left the last wobbly, crooked strokes on the paper. “Are you... absolutely sure you don’t want anything to help your nerves? Even a mild sedative?”

“Will it make me sleep.” Goro spoke with a stilted inflection, more of a statement than a question.

“Yes, it might.”

“Then I don’t want it.” 

The nurse sighed discreetly and gave Goro a quick but compassionate smile, prompting Yusuke that her previous astringency was only a façade. She checked the IV, read something on the monitor and turned to leave. On her way out, she nudged Yusuke’s sleeve.

“If the doctor sees him upset like that, he’ll throw you out regardless of the forms. You’re supposed to make him feel better, mind you,” she whispered, the sharp arch of her raised eyebrow strict and tale-telling; Yusuke nodded his understanding like a grade school pupil and she left.

He bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t sure whether to approach Akechi or Ren, but his feet carried him to the right side of the bed automatically, to resume his previous spot. Ren didn’t move, his back hunched and head still lowered; Akechi, ever the opposite, shot Yusuke a warning look and started to follow his movements with an alarmed expression.

“Well, should we… follow up with that logic of yours,” Yusuke began tentatively, putting both palms harmlessly on the bed rail, “Then you saved us all with that hand.”

Ren stirred and turned slowly to look at him. Akechi blinked owlishly, not understanding what was Yusuke referring to.

“On Shido’s ship. You closed that bulkhead, sacrificing yourself, and thus we could escape with our lives. If you didn’t do it, there might have been no one left to fight the God of Control, and even if we were a single person short, it just… wouldn’t work. So in theory, you could claim you saved all of Japan.” Yusuke nodded, confident in his words despite Goro’s skeptical expression. It was obvious he wasn’t buying any of it.

But Ren was.

“All of Japan for what we know,” Yusuke continued, catching his grateful eyes from across the bed. “And afterwards. In Maruki’s reality. We fought, literally, hand in hand. So as far as hands go, I believe that yours deserves to be fully operational again.”

No one commented or stopped him from babbling, so he went on; what could possibly go wrong?

“Also, it is quite worth noting that it’s a left dominant hand. It starts to be a bit more comprehensible as to why it is so remarkable, due to all the research on handedness, and also when one thinks about… other exceptional left-handed people. Michelangelo was left-handed.” 

Akechi sniffled quietly, and released a breath he was holding. His frown loosened a tiny bit.

“So was Rubens, and Touluse-Lautrec, and Hans Holbein Younger.” Yusuke smiled fondly, recalling more artists he had done research on.

“Da Vinci.” Ren chimed in with a lopsided smile of his own; there was this small twitch of his eyebrows, indicating that at least in his case the ploy is working.

“Exactly. And… Beethoven, I think.”

“Jimi Hendrix.” Ren’s smile deepened; he rubbed at his eyes and readjusted his position on the bed to better face Yusuke. “David Bowie, too.”

“And so many writers. Goethe, Kafka, Wells,” Yusuke enumerated; Goro folded, stopped frowning at this stupid recital and just let them do it. “And scientists, which is the least surprising. Newton, of course. Marie Curie, Alan Turing. Tesla?”

“I’m not sure, but I can search for it,” Ren offered, taking the phone out of his pocket. “Any philosophers, Goro?”

Yusuke smiled. Yes, Goro would know; he had his eyes shut though, and a harsh bob of his Adam’s apple betrayed his ongoing nervousness. 

“I don’t know of any, but I know more musicians.” Yusuke continued after a moment, unwilling to push him. “Mozart, Paganini, um... Kurt Cobain if I’m not mistaken, and... I think Annie Lennox, I read an article once...”

“Lots of fictional characters, too. Rocky Balboa, for one. It was an important part of the film, remember? No one wanted to fight with him, because he could pull punches other boxes did not expect, and they called him a cheat.” Ren happily supplied some trivia, and Yusuke rolled his eyes. “Don’t you dare to call me a nerd, you liked that movie and it’s a cult classic,” Ren pointed out, scrolling down on his phone.

“Nietzsche.”

They both jumped at the sound of the hoarse, cry-leaden voice coming from the bed.

“Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche. You can fucking stop it already, I’m calm.” Akechi said, cleared his throat and sniffled again. “I’m calm.” 

He pushed himself up to a half-sitting position. 

“...Thanks.” He added awkwardly after a while. 

Ren’s hand shot to Akechi’s right palm and gave it a tight squeeze. Seeing that Goro is not trying to take his hand away or otherwise wrench free, Yusuke joined in, enveloping both hands in a gentle hold on top of the crumpled blanket. 

Goro wasn’t quite ready to look at them yet; but his fingers wrapped weakly around theirs.

**~*~**

Half an hour of troubled, uneasy sleep later the rounds had started and Ren gently woke Akechi. He helped him up to a sitting position and offered a sip of water, which was greedily accepted. The resident, a calm, bearded man in half-glasses and a perfectly ironed, squeaky clean apron arrived along with three interns. What Ren and Yusuke expected to be a brief statement on the course of treatment turned out to be a medical dissertation.

First off, the full trauma and neurological function evaluation, then the tox screen. It did not show any intercurrent poisoning or drug intake, which Ren and Yusuke knew already, but the BMP had several abnormal values. That, along with Goro’s insufficient weight, indicated long-term malnourishment. Ren suspected as much; he had no idea where and in what kind of conditions Goro had been hiding. 

Immediate concerns regarding the transfusion were luckily limited, though Akechi still had to be monitored for risk of clotting or belated allergic effects. Naturally, Ren and Yusuke were concerned the most about Goro’s hand; the doctor informed them that the radial artery has been successfully ligated. His tone was appeasing, but he stressed the necessity of the next surgery, to repair nerve and muscle damage. Before he even managed to inquire about the patient’s consent, Goro sighed and nodded nervously. 

“...I agree. It’s… it’s fine. I’ll have the surgery.”

The resident nodded, pleasantly surprised. “That’s very good to hear. Please step into my office later, I will inform you about scheduling the procedure,” he turned to Ren. 

Just when they thought it was everything, the intern chimed in with the course of treatment for coexisting diseases. The main concern seemed to be the kidneys. While they weren’t bruised, they were clearly malfunctioning, and the effects of hypothermia resulted in a urinary tract infection. A course of antibiotics was definitely necessary, and it was deemed best to deliver them intravenously to bypass the digestive system, as there was a well-founded suspicion of gastric ulcers, probably due to long term stress. Akechi rolled his eyes.

Goro was scheduled for further tests: an ECG, an abdominal ultrasonography and a PET scan due to visible head trauma and marks left after an assault. The resident and the interns threw around some more medical terms, including doses and names of drugs, which didn’t tell the three of them anything; finally, the doctor signed the log and put the metal clipboard back on the bed frame.

“That concludes it. I hope you’re going to gradually feel better over the course of a few days, if there’s any discomfort please inform the head nurse, she’ll administer pain relievers. Due to… exceptional circumstances, your friends are allowed to stay with you in the room, but you should rest and sleep as much as it’s possible. Also,” he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Either today or tomorrow, please ready yourself for a visit of a counsellor from the psychiatric ward. Just a talk and evaluation, nothing to be alarmed about,” he added hastily.

“I see.” Goro slumped into the pillows. 

“Rest up, then. If you have any questions, I’ll be available in the afternoon.” And with that, the doctors took their leave.

A bit at a loss of words at the ever-growing list of Goro’s ailments, Ren and Yusuke eyed the sulky patient with caution. Akechi seemed rather unimpressed; he gave them a shrug. He had absolutely no intention of discussing his condition or the upcoming tests, fending off their concerns with silence, so Ren took up his phone again.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked, entering the first streaming website his fingers encountered.

“What, now?” Akechi asked incredulously. “Here?”

“Have anything better to do? You heard the doctor, you’re supposed to rest.”

“Yes, but…” Goro trailed off. “Ugh. I guess we could.” He shimmied down to recline better. “Depends on the movie.”

While they were busy browsing, Yusuke took a seat in the armchair next to the bed and took out a small sketchbook from his bag. He wasn’t exactly in a mood to draw, but rather to sketch idly and allow his mind to wander. He knew that due to lack of sleep and the stress reaction still spiking needles of pain into his temples the results would be poor at best, but putting lines on paper had always served to ground him. It had always been his ticket to better worlds, and he had learned to sketch just for pleasure, though it had been a conscious effort to break the habit. 

Readying a soft, 2B pencil he suddenly felt an evil stare from behind disheveled bangs.

“Are you planning to sketch someone in particular?” Akechi hissed.

“Would it bother you if I were?” Yusuke asked, unfazed.

Akechi gave him a strange look. “No.” He said firmly. “It’s just weird you’d want to.” And he turned to the small screen, pretending not to pay attention to the quiet sound of lead against the page.

**~*~**

“I… I owe you an apology.”

Yusuke lifted his eyes from the drawing; he thought Akechi was asleep. Ren left half an hour ago to call a few people and to talk to the doctor about the upcoming surgery, leaving Yusuke in charge. The task seemed easy enough, given that Goro dozed off in the middle of the movie and slept like a log ever since; Yusuke completely missed the moment of his awakening.

“Apology?” The artist said carefully, putting his sketchbook down. “What for?”

He stood up and approached Goro’s bed, wanting to give him full attention. Akechi hesitated before looking up; his face was veiled with a complex emotion, more shame than apprehension. Definitely sadness.

“I didn’t realize what it would do to you. Back then, I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t spare a thought that you would find me like that, you would have to answer for it to the authorities, clean up my mess, organize… nevermind. I just wasn’t thinking past the point of… past a certain point. I just reacted. When I… I saw your face, when they were carrying me out of the flat, it all dawned on me.”

“I understand.” Yusuke sighed, brushed his hair behind his ear. “You must be under the impression that I am somehow prone to this, or unable to handle it. On the contrary, I have spared it a lot of thought in the past, having witnessed a suicide before… so I am able to approach it with more composure.” He said very quietly.

Goro closed his eyes and gave a long, painful exhale. “...It’s actually even worse then,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

‘It’s okay’ would sound inappropriate, so Yusuke settled for a crooked smile and silence. He could only hope it was companionable. Goro risked a quick look at Yusuke’s face and immediately looked away; there was a question there, but he wouldn’t articulate it for fear of being unnecessarily cruel. Yusuke took a deep breath and answered anyway.

“His name was Hajime-san. One of Madarame’s students. He was a few years older than me.” Yusuke offered. “I could see… how miserable he was. I could see the bruises, too. I knew sensei took almost every painting he had created. And yet… he never spoke ill about him in front of the others, and I… took this state of affairs as normal. Proper, even.” Yusuke’s fingers clenched on the rails of the hospital bed. Akechi observed them slowly going white.

“It was a night like any other in the atelier. Very quiet, lights out. I saw him disappear in his room, roll out the futon and lie down. Apparently…” his voice wavered. “He swallowed two packs of sleeping pills and washed them down with sake. In the morning he was cold already. There was nothing to be done. We... couldn’t help him.”

Not really knowing what to say to that, Goro just observed how Yusuke blinked fast a couple of times, lost in the memory, and how his lips went to form a thin, tightly pressed line.

“I’m sorry.” Akechi said stiffly. “Were you two… close?”

“No,” Yusuke shook his head. “No one was really ‘close’ in that shack. The environment of it was not exactly conducive to making friends.” 

Goro felt extremely stupid. He had completely missed the fact that another student of that leech took his own life. How badly intimidated all the students must have been not to squeak about it? How did it not leak into the media? Did the parents of that pupil never question it, never blame the teacher? How was it not connected back to Madarame after his imprisonment…?

How much more Yusuke had to bear in silence, witness and victim alike?

“I’m sorry, Yusuke,” Goro whispered. “I sincerely apologize for forcing you to go through that. Again.” 

“Apology accepted,” Yusuke said immediately, his delicate features lighting up with a smile. “To be honest, even if your… well, attempt, was definitely more shocking to see than Hajime-san’s passing, I am ultimately glad we were there. I’m glad we stopped you. I’m glad we were able to help.” Yusuke moved a bit closer. “I’m glad you’re alive, Goro.”

Akechi didn’t respond, just mulling over the words, so Yusuke didn’t press him. “Please, don’t worry about me, though. I seriously think that you should offer this to Ren rather than to me; he’s far more affected than he lets you see.”

“...Yeah.” Goro muttered and turned his eyes away.

Yusuke’s eyes rested on the heavily bandaged hand. Goro was trying to wriggle his fingers, probably just a nervous tick; he couldn’t move them all.

“May I touch it?” The artist asked suddenly.

Goro gave him a strange look, but nodded. Yusuke circled the bed and very gently, tentatively put both palms on top of Goro’s forearm, much in the same way he did back then in the bathroom, when trying to prevent Akechi from bleeding out. His palms were wide on the thin forearm, some everpresent specks of paint staining the skin.

“Ren and I... argued. Badly. Because of you.” He started, holding his forearm gently. “It was just after you showed up on Christmas Eve, we almost broke up. Ren… told me something I completely misunderstood back then.”

Goro winced; he suspected something like that had happened.

“He said that this moment between you, in the interrogation room… of course figuratively speaking, because he wasn’t even there, but he said that... this moment you stood above his cognition, the mere seconds before shooting, you revealed yourself. That he could finally understand what you were capable of. See you. The real you. That you two were closer in that moment than ever before… That it was intimate.”

“That’s insane,” Goro rasped, feeling his pulse jump. 

“I thought so too. I even called him out on it. But… I think I understand it now. The last moments, the near-death experience… The way I felt your life trickle between my fingers. You see… how more intimate can you really be? How much deeper can you touch the other person? It’s… horrible, visceral, and a taboo, but… it’s closer than sex, really.” Yusuke whispered.

Goro shot him a disbelieving glance. “...You’re scaring me, Kitagawa.” 

Yusuke bridled.

“Well, didn’t it? Feel intimate?”

“No.” Goro grimaced. Intimate was probably the last word he would use.

“And… before? When you were… working as an assassin.” Yusuke was looking at him with curiosity, Goro realized, and there was no condescending note in his voice. He clearly expected an answer, too, as if the thing they were discussing was of great importance, but in the same type purely academic.

“No.” He said flatly. “Taking a life never felt like anything else than _surreal_.” 

“Even with Ren…?”

Akechi turned his head away violently. How was it that this lanky painter was able to just… back him to a corner like that?! Talk about this, and with such a calm face…?

“It was a powerful enough experience to traumatize you.” Yusuke continued. “It’s clear to anyone who cares to take a closer look. And this?” His fingers moved across the bandage, the gentlest of touches. “Didn’t it feel intimate?”

“No, Yusuke,” Akechi said angrily. “It hurt. You clenched on my hand so hard I thought you’re going to break it in half. All I could think about was how to wrench that hand away, because you were hurting me, and because you were preventing me from… you know.”

A frown marred Yusuke’s forehead. He could not recall anything such.

“I think you’re lying,” he said. “I think it did feel scary, and it was obviously very painful. But... didn’t it feel good to have Ren embrace you? The real you, which you have held under wraps for so long? Didn’t it feel good to tell him ‘I love you?’”

“I didn’t tell him that!” Goro gasped.

“You did. Didn’t it feel good to have him say it back?”

“ _He didn’t!_ ”

“He did. And it was the truth. Now that I think about it…” Yusuke scoffed quietly at Goro’s genuinely terrified expression. “I probably should have felt left out.”

“Yusuke, don’t be ridiculous.” Akechi turned away from him again, and Yusuke noted with further amusement that something akin to a blush crawled up his neck, and stood in stark, unhealthy contrast with his grayish complexion. “This is hysterical. You’re getting jealous because I didn’t tell you I hate you?” Goro hissed, and Yusuke arched an eyebrow. “Okay. ‘I hate you’. There you go.”

“Doesn’t feel right,” Yusuke shook his head. “You don’t hate me at all, you wouldn’t let us have this conversation otherwise. Nor do you really feel anything of merit towards me… and that thought is sad.”

“I genuinely don’t understand you,” Goro sighed, exasperated. 

Yusuke just smiled to himself mysteriously.

Goro didn’t have time to come up with a clever response, because Ren came briskly into the room, carrying some leaflets, print-outs and a phone, having disconnected a call just seconds ago. He saw Yusuke’s hands on top of the injured limb and stopped awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Oh… sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. You, uh… reliving the thing?”

“NO!” Goro snapped, while Yusuke just calmly nodded, saying ‘Yes’. Ren smiled at Akechi, and this time the smile did reach his eyes.

“Goro, it’s alright to think about it,” Ren offered kindly. “It’s only natural you would.”

Akechi moaned, wrenching his limb free from Yusuke’s gentle hold. If he could use his hands freely, he would probably cover his face with them. “Another good Samaritan! Oh my God, I hate your guts,” he groaned.

“See? That felt genuine,” Yusuke remarked, pointing a long finger at him. Ren came closer with a smile, looking from one to the other with curiosity, and Goro turned to him in a desperate attempt to shut Yusuke up.

“Could you…?! Can you tell him to back off?” 

Ren’s laughter rang like silver bells. 

**~*~**

“You have it?”

Ryuji just passed a small metal spray can to Ren, who hid it behind the waistband of his trousers and let the sweater land low on his hips to camouflage it. Ryuji glanced at his friend warily, trying to be patient and wait for a reasonable explanation that surely was coming, but all he got was an exhausted sigh. 

“You look like shit, man,” Ryuji frowned, taking in Ren’s sleepy, grey face, dark circles under his eyes and mismatched, wrinkled clothing. “Where’s Yusuke?”

“He’s coming,” Ren fidgeted uncharacteristically. . “He stopped to get a coffee from the vending machine. Please, don’t let him out of your sight - I wouldn’t trust anybody else with him, you know?”

“Don’t worry bro, he’ll be safe, but just tell me what the hell is going on,” Ryuji grew more exasperated with every passing second. 

He didn’t know what to think. First, the alarming phone call, the bizarre request to meet him in front of the hospital, out of all places; an urgent plea to bring the last can of the highly effective and _very illegal_ pepper spray from their hidden stash of shady commodities. A chewed-out, dog-tired look, a restless tic and constant scanning of the parking lot to make sure nobody is watching made Ryuji think of Ren just after the interrogation. 

“Dude.” Ryuji stepped closer. “You’re freaking me out, talk. Who’s after ya?”

“Look,” Ren hesitated, at a loss of what to say, how much to say and how, exactly. “Look, just… just please listen carefully and try not to attract attention.” He swallowed nervously. “Akechi’s back.” 

Ryuji’s brows reached almost to the black roots of his hair, while his eyes went wide and perfectly round. “He’s alive…?!” Ryuji gave out a whisper-shout.

Ren bridled and raked a hand through his hair, not knowing what to do. But once the words were spoken and the initial hit landed, he just sighed and started to blurt out all the events of the past forty-eight hours, using a sympathetic ear to vent.

“Yes, he’s alive. He showed up at LeBlanc yesterday. He’s... not exactly peachy.” Understatement of the year, Ren realized. “He’s in the hospital. Will be, for a while. There’s, um… there’s a lot to take care of... He has to have surgery. He’s followed. We don’t know who that might be. Doesn’t look like Shido. Well, we don’t know.” Ren rubbed his brow, risked a fast glance at his best friend to check how he was taking this. Ryuji observed him with those round, innocent eyes, almost without blinking.

“Anyway he needs to stay here. I’m staying with him, because if someone comes for him in the night... And I thought it’s better if Yusuke crashes at your place tonight, stays with someone. Especially that…” Ren hesitated, cursed under his breath. “He just shouldn’t be alone. _Don’t. Leave him. Alone._ ”

Ryuji was speechless, so all he did was nod, trying to digest all that information. They didn’t talk any more; Yusuke emerged from behind the corner, looking positively vexed. He approached and stiffly accepted Ryuji’s handshake.

“Hey man,” the blonde muttered. “Ya good?”

“Splendid.” Yusuke said quietly, in this aloof, overly polite tone he used when he talked to strangers during exhibitions. “I’m just being sent to safety like an infant, or a blushing maiden, rather.”

“We’ve been over this _a thousand times_ by now.” Ren kicked the ground with the tip of his shoe. “Please. It’s only a precaution.”

Yusuke made a face, but he acquiesced. They _have_ been at it for the better part of the hour, vividly discussing everything over Akechi’s bed, and later alone, when he was taken for ultrasonography. 

Yusuke had been clearly offended and more than a little wounded at the suggestion of staying at Ryuji’s place. He could offer help, keep watch or provide backup in case Akechi’s stalkers showed up; the idea of Ren dealing with it on his own seemed entirely misguided. Yusuke had vehemently argued that he didn’t want to be left out of this, for several reasons, and that he had a right to be there. 

Ren understood that. He knew Yusuke’s presence would be helpful and he was able to handle the pressure. It was actually Ren who felt on the verge of a breakdown. He needed to know that Yusuke is safe and sound; he needed him removed from the vicinity of any mysterious pursuers, far from harm. Should another of his loved ones get hurt in such a short span of time, Ren would go insane. That, and _only_ that, was what finally convinced the artist.

“I can’t protect you both,” Ren said, his voice, look, body language and everything just _pleading_ for Yusuke to fold. “I won’t do a single thing right if you stay.”

Yusuke did his best not to look at Ren or Ryuji. It was clear he has a very distinct opinion about all this. “So, you do suspect things might get violent. You need to know I’m safe, but it’s fine to subject _me_ to the torture of waiting? Besides, what makes you believe it’s acceptable for me to stay put when you expose yourself to danger?”

“Actually, I back him up on this one,” Ryuji muttered. “Why do _you_ have to go stickin’ your neck out for Akechi?” 

Ren swallowed down irritation and risked a quick glance at Yusuke, whose face was unreadable. “Look, you know why. I am- I _was_ the leader. I still feel like I’m responsible,” he explained.

Ryuji just scoffed. “He tried to murder ya, buddy. Why does it have to be _you_?”

“Because he doesn’t have anyone else,” Ren snapped. “Because he listens to me. And because he can’t as much as lift a finger right now.” He pinned Ryuji with a pointed look, and when the blonde lifted up both hands in a defensive gesture, Ren took a step back and shuffled his feet. 

Ryuji waited; Yusuke was actually impressed at Ryuji’s self-restraint, because he could tell he’s biting back a pointed remark.

Ren turned back to them after a moment. “Besides, this is all blown out of proportion.” He said, much calmer. “No one is in danger, this is merely a safety measure. Whoever is tailing Akechi didn’t give him enough reason to suspect they’re dangerous. They didn’t start shooting, they didn’t try kidnapping him, they just… followed.” Ren shrugged, looked around quickly. “We don’t even know what they want or who they are. This is a public hospital, they’d hardly risk a scene with so much collateral. For all we know, we might be looking at an attempt to extract intel. Threatening, or blackmail, something like that. Non-violent.”

Ryuji and Yusuke looked at him with different levels of disbelief. Ren shook his head sharply, grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and pulled him a bit to the side. 

“Yusuke, look at me.” He squeezed and rubbed Yusuke’s hand in his sweaty palms. His movements were sharp, frantic, unpleasant. “I’m on my last legs. I _can_ do it, but only if I know you’re safe. Please. Do it for me. I know it’s selfish, but _please_ , after yesterday I can’t stand a single thought of something happening to—”

“Enough. You asked, and I agreed.” Yusuke stepped closer, pressed their foreheads together in a rare display of public affection. Ren exhaled tiredly, gave in, accepted the warm pressure of a hand on his nape. “I understand.”

Ren’s lips were a tight, thin line. He eyed Yusuke carefully. 

“But I’m going to worry. I want you to text me, regardless of the time. I shall not sleep,” the artist said seriously.

“Please do, I’ll be dead tired tomorrow. I’ll need you.”

“Don’t let anything happen to yourself.”

“I won’t.” Ren whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Yusuke sighed, separating them gently. His face was drawn, eyes full of apprehension. The step back he took felt too heavy and too finite. 

Ryuji touched Yusuke’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Let’s get going, bro. You both look like you could trip over. And just so you know, I’m still waiting for a proper explanation, but I won’t push ya right now,” he said and exchanged a quick, firm embrace with Ren. “Take care. And don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, got it?”

“Will do,” Ren nodded and grabbed Yusuke’s hand again. They stood there for a second, hesitant to part; a sudden, irrational panic started climbing up - but Ryuji pulled on Yusuke’s elbow and they stirred. Ren took a step back, and Yusuke had no other logical conclusion other than to follow their blonde friend into the old, corroded and unbelievably messy Honda. 

Ren observed how Yusuke reluctantly fastened his seatbelt and looked out of the passenger window; he allowed himself a moment more, drowning in those sad, grey eyes, but Ryuji quickly maneuvered the car out of the parking lot and they disappeared. Spurred on by a sense of dread, Ren hurried back to the hospital building.

Once he entered the appropriate ward again and was let in by the staff, he noticed a doctor walk out of Akechi’s room, so Ren caught up with him to investigate. It was the psychiatrist. The obligatory consultation probably went as good as it could have, judging from the doctor’s attitude, but Ren needed a single look into the OR to know that Akechi was in pieces. The doctor didn’t know him at all.

A short debrief and a few solemn, polite nods later Ren entered the room slowly. His gaze lingered at Goro’s shrunk shoulders. Akechi was laying on his side with his back turned to the entrance, pretending to rest. Though he did not utter a single sound, Ren knew he’s crying.

It was kind of fascinating to see Goro cry, to observe this anomalous ability to keep completely, entirely quiet through the sobs wracking his shoulders. Something he perfected through years and years of too thin walls and too irritable caregivers. Ren dumped his bag on the chair with a sigh.

He came up to the bed, his movements slow and sluggish. It was as if somebody else’s hand touched Goro’s shivering back; Ren felt detached. As if he was merely observing the gesture from above. He didn’t care for Goro’s reaction, not that there was any. 

The metal bed creaked quietly as Ren lay on top of the covers and nudged Akechi to give him a bit more room. The hospital gown was drenched in sweat; it was cold, unpleasant to the touch and should probably be changed, but Ren ignored it for now. He spooned up to Goro, wrapping his arm around his middle. Again, no reaction whatsoever, so he just held on. 

It must have been painful, the way Goro’s throat clenched to stay silent. Ren could smell his tears, now that they were so close. He prayed that Akechi had enough air to breathe; nothing seemed to actually go through his air track and Ren couldn’t detect his breathing through the shivers. He didn’t comment, but started to take deeper breaths that Akechi could easily feel against his back, to coax him into doing the same. In the absence of inhales, Goro’s heart thumped so loudly it reverberated in Ren’s ribcage; he had an impression he’s holding a husk, resonating with echo.

Ren kept his face carefully hidden in Goro’s hair to give him the courtesy of plausible deniability, but Akechi knew it was too late for that. When it proved too hard to hold his breath any longer, he sniffed a couple of times and swallowed with a wet, heavy click. 

“Are they locking me up?” He choked out eventually.

Ren shifted a bit, gathered him closer. “No. You’ll stay here in the hospital for observation. They’ll transfer you to a different ward after the surgery to make sure you react well to the medication. Antidepressants, from what I was able to understand.” Ren kept his voice informative and matter-of-fact.

“And… after?”

“I made sure the doctor understood you have a place to stay and relevant people around you, so… After that you’ll be free to go.”

Goro swallowed with difficulty. “Just like that?”

“Well, they’ll refer you to a specialist.” 

“A shrink.” Goro’s voice was swollen with self-hatred.

“Yes, a shrink.” Ren sighed. He felt it’d be better to stick to the truth.

Akechi scoffed; a bitter, short laugh shook his body. “What am I even supposed to say?” 

“Well, you obviously can’t talk about the Metaverse.” Ren started cautiously, tightening his hold even more. “But, to be honest… You have a ton of stuff to unpack, Goro. Start with something further from the past.”

“Why shouldn’t I talk about the Metaverse?” Akechi’s voice broke into a cold, unpleasant candor. “They _should_ put me on death row.”

“I don’t want to see you on death row.”

“Sure. You want me to live and feel like absolute shit ‘til the end of my life, the way I feel now.”

Ren closed his eyes and decided to roll with the flow. “If it means we can go to Jazz Jin together again, then yes.” He said icily. “Goro, I know it’s hard to understand when everyone you have ever met in this world was a shitstain, but. I do care for you.”

“You,” Akechi made a half-assed attempt to move away, “are a cruel, self-righteous, entitled bastard who still believes in that warped idea of ‘justice’ you had when running around in a funny costume. _‘I care for you’_. Everybody look at Saint Amamiya! Hugging his own murderer.”

Ren didn’t find it in himself to argue. “This isn’t even for you. It’s for me. At this point, if I don’t hear your heartbeat, I’m going to have a fucking meltdown.”

Akechi gradually went slack in Ren’s embrace. The idea of Ren having some selfish, ulterior motive seemed to make this situation easier to stomach. They fell silent, Ren still pressing his forehead to Akechi’s nape, Goro sniffling from time to time.

“Are you really gonna be here?” Akechi asked finally.

“Yes.”

“Through the night, too?”

“Yes.”

“Then call the nurse.” Goro sighed, resigned and quiet, closing his eyes tiredly. 

Ren lifted himself up on one elbow to take a closer look at him. “Are you in pain?”

“No. I just… changed my mind. I want to sleep.” Goro sniffled and licked his chapped lips, turning his face away. “Make her give me something to put me to sleep.”

Ren nodded and pressed the button on a small dial next to the bed to call someone. He spooned back to Akechi, uncaring of what the nurse was going to say about it, and carded a hand through Goro’s hair. If Akechi was surprised or irked by the gesture, he didn’t make it known. He fell inhumanly still and quiet like before.

Once the resident nurse came in, she didn’t comment on Ren being in the patient’s bed, even if it was against the regulations. She inquired calmly about what Goro needed and reappeared a minute later with a glass phial and a plastic-wrapped, sterile syringe. Ren flinched minimally against his will when she tore the package open and prepared the injection; Goro gave him a long, mute look over his shoulder. 

Their eyes met, their breaths matched, the red string went taut - pulling, _pulling_ with the familiar, bitter, stinging ache - but they both consciously refused to react and just let the sensation blow past. 

Ren stirred first. He touched Goro’s wrist to keep him still for the nurse to administer the injection. Goro observed the tip of the needle going into his flesh with unsettling calm.

The nurse was as quick as possible, pressing a spirit-soaked cotton wad to the place of the prick and bending Akechi’s arm for him. Ren took hold of the limb, ran his thumb in small circles on top of his shoulder.

“He shouldn’t have any dreams after this. And there’s a painkiller in it, too. If you need anything, call me. I have a night shift. My name is Nami.” The woman whispered, and Ren nodded thankfully with a small ‘thank you, Ma’am.’ When he turned his attention back to Akechi, he had his eyes closed already.

The drug seemed to rapidly take effect, because Goro loosened in his arms and the frown marring his forehead disappeared into a blank, listless expression. He shifted a little, pushed his face into Ren’s neck, seeking contact.

“If only I could go this way.” He muttered barely audibly, his lips stiff and hardly moving at this point. Ren touched his face, trying to get his attention, to object, to snap him out of it, but he was already asleep. 

Ren cursed his own idiocy. Of course Goro’s last conscious thoughts tonight would be of lethal injections and several kinds of state institutions he was applicable to. Ren was failing him, he knew Goro must have been scared, even if he made every effort to hide it; he knew that the reality Akechi was trying to escape finally proved too much to bear. And Ren was fucking it up even more, as powerless and dreadfully inadequate as he always knew himself to be. He was delaying the inevitable, or worse, driving Goro to the point of no return even surer, losing Yusuke in the process and sacrificing his own sanity, too. 

Goro lay in his arms unconscious. His beautiful, worn out face looked like it was under a spell. 

How was it that you’d only remember the most useless, crappy anecdotes in situations where something much more constructive would help? Ren furiously wiped at his eyes, desperately trying to mimic Goro’s behaviour from earlier and not make any errant sounds. He didn’t want the nurse to come back and force him to leave. Sleep is the brother of Death, they talked about it in history class. Fucking brain. Useless, useless, useless...

Stop thinking about it, Ren scolded himself. Let him rest. Don’t be an asshole. 

You can’t fail him now. You can’t. Get yourself together.

You can’t fail him.

**~*~**

In the velvety darkness and silence permeating the room, Ren melted into the backrest of the armchair. The can of pepper spray was warm and constituted a comforting, grounding pressure on his spine where it was tucked behind the waistband of his jeans. Hidden behind closed blinds of the OR window and trying to stay as still as possible, Ren waited. He thanked the fates for Goro’s every inhale. Waited. Sung a mute praise again. Waited still.

He had been waiting for a while now.

Finally, as predicted, someone approached the room. A tall, well-built man in a blue cotton overalls, uniformly worn by the orderlies, entered the OR and reached for the information written on the patient card. Perfectly inconspicuous, confident in his movements, assured of his cover. He didn’t notice Ren at first, but once he realized that he’s in the room, the man sent him a polite, quiet smile.

“Just a nightly-check in.” He said naturally.

“Wrong hour.” Ren scowled. “Wrong colour of the tag on your chest. And that watch you have? It probably costs several salaries for any nurse.” It took all of Ren’s self-control not to stand up and discharge the full can into his eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh,” the man smiled. “You must be The Boyfriend. They warned me you might be here.”

“What do you want?” It seemed petty to correct the man on the boyfriend idea, even if it made his hackles rise; Ren’s fingers clenched on the armrests.

“I am only here to confirm he’s alive, and learn about his condition.” The man said seriously. “We don’t want any harm to come to him.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“I would like you to think about us as... friends. Outside aid. He’s going to need a lot of it. He’s still hip deep in a mess of his own doing, and it is outside of your capability to fix this. It would be immensely appreciated if you would translate it to him,” The man shook his head at the information on the patient’s card, his mouth curling in dissatisfaction; he sighed condescendingly, the way one would sigh at the mess a puppy had made. 

Ren’s nostrils flared. “Curious way to make friends. Stalking and and sending a gumshoe to off him in the middle of the night.” 

“You’re mistaken.” The man flipped the page. “Akechi Goro is much, much more useful alive than dead. He knows a lot about things we are interested in. We could enter a mutually beneficial arrangement, far from the child exploitation one Masayoshi Shido was so fond of, but, as matters stand...”

“What arrangement?” Ren’s nostrils flared. He was starting to feel really angry. 

“It’s useless to talk about it with you, since you’re not an interested party.” The man put the card back into place. “In any case, he’s safe for the time being. All of this is regrettable,” he patted the clipboard. “None of this would have happened if he didn’t run like a maniac.” 

He sent Ren a mockery of a smile. He _knew_ that Ren’s hand was itching for the mediocre weapon he had.

“Someone will stop by tomorrow to deliver the personal documents he had lost so carelessly. Get some sleep now, _leader_ ,” the man winked and turned to leave. “Oh. And, greetings for Kitagawa-kun. I’m a fan.”

Once the retreating footsteps faded in the distance, the silence became daunting. Ren took a deeper breath to steady himself, wiped the clammy palms on the fabric of his jeans; he ran through the conversation once again in his head, trying to memorize every small detail about the man’s appearance, accent, way of moving, anything - literally anything to help him identify who he was working for. It was important. It was crucial to remember as much about him as possible. 

Goro was, for once, blissfully unaware, his face relaxed and strangely sad as he slept. Ren came out to the corridor. The lights were dim, but normal, the sounds of the hospital perfectly ordinary, the quietest hum of the radio reaching him from the head nurse’s room. He felt a weak scent of instant coffee and saw another orderly emerging from the bathroom, yawning. 

All was normal. The strange appearance of the man seemed almost ghostlike, a figment of his imagination. 

Ren cursed under his breath and went back to the OR.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for suicide ideation: just after talk with Ryuji, there's an intense, emotional scene between Goro and Ren, during which Goro expresses a wish to die in his sleep. There are some allusions to capital punishment in Japan in that same convo.


	10. Camelot II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The violent sea calms, and memories resurface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for beta-reading, [Rune Lyer ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuneLyer)! You're always top notch and professional. 
> 
> This is a rather safe chapter. Lightweight, even.^^ Regular /content warnings/ for: angst, hospitalization, some reminiscing about previous events, but... this should really be OK.
> 
> Also, it contains a certain ice-cream scene written specifically for my dear friend [Armae ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armae), who came up with the idea and also invented the name of nurse Nami. ^^ I really hope you'll enjoy this! 
> 
> Please, leave me some feedback. I welcome concrit. Stay well and thank you for your time. ;)

**~*~**

Seeing two men in police uniforms, dawdling around the entrance to the hospital, Yusuke broke into a power-walk. He almost splashed cheap coffee at an orderly and pushed another one away with his bag, all to get to Akechi’s room before they did. He was so glad to have his gangly long legs now; they allowed him to hurdle through the lengths of the corridors, climb the stairs and get to Ren before the two policemen managed to get close.

After a very hasty good morning he pushed Ren into the safety of the OR, deposited the bag in his hands and nonchalantly blocked the entrance. The cops showed up soon enough.

“How can I help you, officers,” the artist pulled himself up to his full, impressive height, looking down at the uniformed men. Ren joined his side, keeping a somewhat large gap between himself and the policemen. They exchanged weary glances; one of them shrugged.

“We’re here to question a certain... Akechi Goro,” The shorter one said, taking out a notepad. “We’ve been notified by the hospital that he’s been found. It checks in with our records, there really had been a missing person report filed on him; is that his room?”

“Yes. Though he’s currently sedated, and so you won’t be able to talk. Which you would have known if you asked the staff for permission to interrogate him.” Yusuke crossed both arms in front of his chest and bore his steel gaze into the officer, taking the lead of the conversation immediately.

The policeman blinked at him demurely. “...And you are?” 

“Kitagawa Yusuke, a friend of the person involved. I will answer all your questions,” he said confidently. 

“Yeah… identification, address, and phone number?” Yusuke obliged him; the man glanced at his documents briefly, then scribbled something. “And you?” He asked, turning to Ren.

“Amamiya Ren. Same address.” Ren’s fists clenched; he supposed his record will be mentioned as soon as he discloses his name and they run it through the system, but the officer didn’t even bother writing it down or looking at his ID, hearing that the contact information is the same. Ren frowned.

“Right… So we don’t need to ‘interrogate’ anyone, it’s just that the paperwork needs to match... Also, we have an obligation to check if there was a criminal act involved, like a kidnapping, for example. So you’ll tell us all about the happy reunion, exactly how and when it happened.”

“Does the head nurse know you’re here?” Yusuke didn’t relent.

The policeman gave him an annoyed look. “Obviously? We left his personal documents at her very desk - an ID and a passport he’d lost. The empty wallet had been found in Harajuku, brought in to the precinct by a passerby.” Ren perked up on the information; he started to watch both of the men closely, trying to discern if they were just regular beat cops or actual members of the plot thickening around Goro.

“As far as we know, he didn’t lose them, he was mugged,” Yusuke interloped. “He was assaulted, robbed and he suffered a head injury, the hospital records will confirm. Are you going to be looking into that?”

“If he files a report,” the policeman grimaced as if he was imagining the amount of desk work that would cause him. “But I wouldn’t count on apprehending anyone. Slight public danger of act. How do you know each other?” He lifted the notepad again.

“We’re acquaintances from high school.”

“Did you attend the same school?”

“No. Just friends.”

The policeman smirked. “Must have been rad to be friends with Detective Prince. Okay, so he comes back, he goes to see you, and then what? He suddenly flips, out of the blue? The nurse says you were with him when he tried to kill himself.”

Yusuke’s nostrils flared at the dismissive tone and crass word choice, but Ren had pale fury written all over his face. Yusuke lifted his hand to Ren’s elbow as he stepped closer, gripping tightly to hold him in place. 

“Yes. Akechi-kun returned to Tokyo as of two days ago.” Yusuke’s voice rang with the practiced, characteristic timbre of a person being interviewed. “He asked if he could stay the night, we said yes. He did seem in a bit of a difficult situation, but we didn’t really talk about it, as it would be impolite. He’s a very covert person, and we didn’t want to pry. We just welcomed him to our apartment. Then... indeed, he had a breakdown. We had to call the ambulance. He has been in the hospital ever since.”

“A breakdown about what? What did he say?”

Yusuke pursed his lips. “...That’s not for me to divulge. It’s private.”

“What do you mean, _it’s private_? It’s an investigation. Nothing is ‘private’ in an investigation,” the man barked, knitting his brows. Yusuke didn’t even flinch.

“The reason for his current condition has nothing to do with his disappearance, I assure you. He was overwhelmed, he didn’t have a place to go. It was purely an emotional reaction.”

The short cop wanted to argue, but his colleague bumped his elbow and pulled him aside.

“Leave it... Collapsed career of a child star, mysterious absence, then a sudden return and assault. And attempted suicide. Plain as day, drugs and depression. Do you really wanna chase Yakuza meth heads for a statement? You have kids, man.” 

The cop sighed begrudgingly, shrugged and scratched something that he had previously written mouthing a curse. 

He approached Ren and Yusuke again. “...Anyway. We’ll get the exact statement from the hospital later. Did he try to contact any of you during the period he’s been allegedly missing?” He asked, not looking up from the notepad.

“No.”

“Do you know where he could have been staying?”

Yusuke shook his head. “Sadly, no. If we knew, we would have sought contact.” 

The other policeman cleared his throat into his fist, interrupting the scribbling. He looked Ren straight in the eye; his eyes were bright, clever, and... just a tiny bit amused.

“Is there a possibility that Akechi-san was out of Tokyo on private business? A family matter, perhaps?” He asked politely, staring at Ren without blinking. 

Ren fought back the urge to glance at the patient's bed. Goro was still asleep, without as much as a twitch, looking small and frail with the IV tubes and ECG electrodes attached to him. It was up to Ren and Yusuke to spin the story right; it was up to them to protect him. Ren hesitated.

"...Maybe," he said cautiously.

“The missing person report had been filed by his landlady,” the man continued staring. “Do you recall anything that might have justified leaving Tokyo in a rush, breaking the lease so suddenly? Like a…” his eyebrows twitched, “...emergency call from a distant relative? A dire need to, say, take a break from his media career? Enjoy the countryside?” 

Ren took a long inhale. Yusuke stirred next to him and gave a small, agreeing noise. 

“...Indeed, he was badly overworked. He might have mentioned something about a gap year, now that I recall,” he said, catching on. 

“And the landlady herself, she was… quite advanced in age, wasn’t she?” The officer kept feeding lines.

“Yes, she was quite old,” Ren nodded slowly. “I saw her once.”

“Demented hag filed an unnecessary report,” The first policeman groaned, closed the notepad, and tucked his pen back into the front pocket. “She forgot he broke the lease or maybe lied on purpose, counting on the attention of the tabloids." He rolled his eyes. "Which she certainly got."

The other officer made an agreeing hum.

"Okay then… Let’s wrap it up. His wallet had been found, I guess it’s a blessing in disguise. I don’t recall the whole deal with his disappearance from the media, but his name was pretty tarnished at the end, and I suppose being a child celebrity would mess anybody up... So give him our best regards, I hope he makes a full recovery." The first cop said awkwardly. "Contact us if he decides to file for assault,” The man handed them a form and asked to sign it. Yusuke grabbed the pen before Ren could take a step closer. 

“Thank you, gentlemen. Have a good day,” The polite officer bowed; Ren could clearly see the spark of mirth in his eyes, the rush of a bluff done right, the pleasant surprise at how easy it was. 

When they disappeared behind the corner, Yusuke looked at his boyfriend in utmost confusion. 

“Are they really going to let this go? They’re not going to check in with the school, the precinct he was interning in, his colleagues, Sae-san? This missing person report was not a fake, his face was plastered all over Tokyo, it was on TV, it’s…”

“It’s not the most bizarre thing that happened,” Ren muttered. “We had a nightly visitor. No, I’m alright, don’t worry,” Ren grabbed Yusuke’s hand and squeezed it gently, seeing concern written all over his face. “Just tired. I feel awful.”

“I brought you a toothbrush and a fresh change of clothes. Unless you want to go home for a bit?”

“No, I’ll stay, he should be waking up soon.” Yusuke passed Ren a sports bag, his expression tense. “I'll freshen up. I'll be right back to tell you everything.” Ren pecked him quickly on the cheek and stepped into the bathroom.

**~*~**

The purposefully botched questioning was definitely not the end to the peculiar events of the day.

When Ren showed up at the nurse’s office to inquire about Akechi’s documents, he found out in a casual conversation that the police did not interview any of the staff; they just requested a copy of Akechi’s hospital admission paperwork to be sent to them. When he tried to raise the matter of the medical bill, he was informed that it had been paid already - in cash, thus without registering any card number or a name. The nurse couldn’t tell him who settled the bill.

When he slowly made his way back to the OR, completely dumbfounded, he received a quick phone call from Sae, who told him she dug out the files of Akechi’s case to look over them again and could not find most of the evidence of Akechi’s connection to Shido. A big part of the photographs, phone billings, details of his bank account and cognitive psience research data regarding his person was all but nonexistent, with just a few errant files here and there. Sae suspected theft and outside interference, maybe from Shido’s side. 

As matters stood, there wasn’t a single person in the prosecutor’s office who would be willing to as much as acknowledge Akechi’s connection to Shido. His usefulness as a witness was entirely shrugged off. The police were extremely reluctant to give her any intel, making it clear they were not going to reopen the mental shutdowns investigation. Ren had enough presence of mind to warn Sae and advise her to stop digging any further; he wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to her. Clipped and polite as usual, she thanked him for his misplaced concern; she also reminded that she’s a defense attorney now, so any ‘digging’ in question could only be done for an accused client, and said client was presently neither accused nor willing to hire her. She disconnected the call, repeating once again - emphatically - that her underhanded investigation is _shut_. 

Ren had a fleeting feeling that he should buy a burner phone.

**~*~**

Akechi just stared at the documents with disbelief. He was sitting on the bed, turning the pages of his passport for a longer while. Eventually, he dropped it, lifted the ID and gave Ren and Yusuke an incredulous stare.

“This,” he said, “is a genuine document. It’s my old ID. Issued under my own name, the very document I left behind in my hiding place in favour of a fake identification card. I didn’t even bring this to Tokyo. Which means they knew exactly where I was staying for the last two years and just retrieved it from there now.” 

He put it down on his lap, reaching for the passport. “This - is a fake. It’s a fake passport, looking so good that it’s fucking alarming, because it may just as well be the real thing. Which means they have ties to the government and can print this on a whim, with whatever date of issue they please.” Akechi threw it on the bed, taking a deep breath. He nudged the brown leather with a finger. “And this isn’t even my wallet.” 

“How can you be sure it’s a forgery?” Yusuke asked, picking up the small red book and scrutinizing it in fascination. 

“Because I never had a passport,” Akechi told him. “You need the written permission of a parent or a legal guardian to apply, and…”

“...and you never got one,” Ren finished for him. “Why would they give you a passport? Why would they give you means to escape the country, if they don’t want you to run?”

Akechi was silent for a moment; he leaned back on the bedpost heavily, stared at the items laid out on a beige blanket.

“They expect me to agree to their deal, whatever the fuck it is. This passport is for _them_ , it’s for later, for when _they_ will need to send me abroad.” Akechi sighed, propped his chin with his fingers like he had used to, and Ren got dizzy at the sudden tug deep in his chest. “It's not even a bribe; it's a necessary step of the plan. So is the surgery. They want me in good health. They need me to…” He hesitated. 

Yusuke sighed, looking grim and troubled. He shifted on his chair uncomfortably.

“...I entertained that thought.” He admitted. “A possible reason for a suspicious organization to obtain your services and expertise about the Metaverse is to carry out illegal business there. But... the Metaverse is no more,” he glanced at each of them in turn.

Akechi’s eyes were impassive, his expression carefully blank.

“Is it, though.” Ren muttered, more to himself than anything.

Sticky silence stretched as they pondered the possibility. Ren had always believed that to be likely, always, because he clearly didn’t stop receiving ominous messages from the other side, as rare as they had been. But to consider all the implications… 

Finally Akechi had enough and gave an irritated sigh, reclining lower on the bed. He fiddled with the edge of the tight bandage, clearly fighting the urge to pull.

“Look, you talked to the guy. I trust your judgement. Am I, and by extension, are you in any immediate danger?”

He stared hard from across the room; Ren felt that whiplash again. He fell silent for a while, carefully measuring his answer.

“No.” He said eventually. “Not for now.”

"Then we shall talk about this no more, for the time being." Akechi sighed, looking away uncomfortably. "We'll have to wait and see."

**~*~**

Realizing that there was nothing to be achieved by worrying, the trio allowed themselves to settle. The next - and only - concern through the upcoming days was Goro’s health. 

Most of the tests and scans turned out to be improving. The recovery was slow, though. Goro was still feeble and absolutely loathed the feeling, but the prescribed course of antibiotics knocked him off his feet. He had to capitulate and agree to the absolute ordeal of the bed regime. 

He couldn’t stay awake for longer than a few hours at a time, so cutting naps throughout the day became a thing. When awake, he was plagued by pain, and though he did his best to try and hide it, his snappy nature started to manifest more as the discomfort grew. Ren and Yusuke quickly fell into the pattern of calling for the nurse towards the evening, when Goro started to be especially prickly. Pain relievers involved more sedation - and so Goro was mostly asleep for the first two days. 

The anxiety he felt each time when clawing his way up into consciousness from the drug-induced slumber was greatly alleviated by the fact that he would always find someone next to his bed during the day - Yusuke was still on a spring break, and Ren maneuvered himself out of his many jobs claiming laryngitis. Takemi could have helped with that, after yelling at him for not updating her on Akechi’s condition. Their constant presence by his side was as surreal as it was appreciated; Goro despised himself for it, and prayed for no one to notice, but every time he’d open his eyes, the first thing he’d do was to look for either Ren or Yusuke in the room.

Gradually things became a teeny-tiny bit easier. The accumulated stress started to relent, too. The damn IV, a necessary evil until that point, was finally disconnected and Goro gained the ability to move more freely. That involved trips to the common area of the hospital ward, where visiting would normally take place. Ren and Yusuke were only allowed to stay in Goro’s room for such an extensive period of time because of the circumstances of his admission - and also because Yusuke picked up nurse watching, casually leaving the sketches on the corridor for the ladies to take home.

And since Goro could walk around, he needed some basic clothes. At some point Ren came to visit around midday, bearing something that could only look like shopping bags. Akechi’s nose wrinkled.

“What is _that_?” He scowled.

“Your pyjamas,” Ren answered serenely. “You can’t just go to the common area in a hospital gown, your crack shows. Change into this,” He laid out simple checkered pants and a red long sleeve top. It had the Avengers logo on it, in the shape of a big letter ‘A’. Yusuke bit the inside of his cheek, seeing Akechi’s murderous stare. 

“...Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Sorry, Red Featherman was only in the kid's section.”

“You think you’re funny, eh?” Akechi growled, standing up and catching Ren’s shoulders for support as Ren pulled the cotton pants up his legs. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is an insinuation.” 

“I always thought that the ‘A’ sign was a pretty clever literary reference, actually,” Yusuke chimed in from his place across the room. “Like, ‘A for Able’ kind of thing.” 

“Huh?” Akechi grimaced. “A reference to what?” He turned around so that Ren could untie the straps of the nightgown on his back.

“You’ve never read ‘The Scarlet Letter’?” Yusuke raised his eyebrows. “I thought you ransacked the entirety of your school’s library.”

“The ‘A’ comes from my name? You know? ‘Akechi’? It starts with ‘A’?” Goro stared at Yusuke with a mixture of irritation and astonishment, apparently not getting how Yusuke could have misunderstood something so obvious.

The artist sighed in disappointment. “Ah... I have to admit I thought it would be - I don’t know. Less crude than that.”

Akechi was just about to jab Yusuke with a nasty remark when Ren undid all the straps and pulled the thin gown away, revealing his torso. Yusuke’s smile disappeared as if wiped off. 

His eyes fixed on the gnarled, discoloured scar tissue, covering Goro’s left pectoral and crawling down his sternum like poison ivy. It surrounded the healed entry wound from a bullet - an irregular, elongated brand maiming the smooth skin beyond repair. The gun had been fired from close proximity, tearing flesh apart, crushing bone and going straight through Goro’s heart. Yusuke swallowed hard; he’d never seen the scar before. 

Akechi froze; he turned around sharply to escape this wounded look on the artist’s face, full of sympathy, full of crushing tenderness, but he found himself centimeters away from Ren, which was even worse. 

Something ripped inside him and he just had to _lash out_. “What’s wrong with your face?” He snarled, and Ren stirred immediately, raising his eyes to meet him.

“Brainless sentimentality.” The raw honesty in Ren’s eyes disarmed Goro, stilled the expletives on his tongue. “Forgive me. Now, careful with your hand,” Ren raised the T-shirt and Goro put his head through, but a strange sound caught his attention. They both glanced over Goro’s shoulder, only to catch Yusuke with a pencil, sketching rapidly.

“Drop it,” Goro snapped. Yusuke visibly deflated and put the sketchpad away with a pout. 

Trying not to smirk, Ren helped Akechi put the top on and reached for the other bag, taking a fluffy white bathrobe out of it. He held it out and Goro dived into the safety of the garment, putting both hands into the sleeves. 

“Now you’re good,” Ren said, tying the sash and appraising the effect; Yusuke nodded, pleased with the stark contrast of the red V in the otherwise white attire.

“You only miss the tassels,” he smiled. 

“Ha-fucking-ha,” Akechi shook his head and sat back on the bed heavily. “Does it give you pleasure to mock a sick person?”

“Now come on, you can’t blame me for the bathrobe,” Ren’s lips curled upwards as he put a pair of comfy slippers on the floor. “It’s not my fault they usually come in white.”

“Because of course they do.” Goro ridiculed.

Ren completely ignored him. “I didn’t get you any socks, I didn’t know if you’d even wear them with all the bandages, but the slippers will do. They’re soft enough.” He said and put a small bundle on Goro’s lap. “And you’re gonna need this.”

Akechi blinked fast. “But… You didn’t have to buy this, it’s—”

“—It’s my old smartphone, I only bought a new SIM card. It’s no problem. Both our numbers are saved, so just. You know. Use it.” Ren fished out a pair of earphones from his bag and put them on the bedside cabinet.

Before Goro managed to say thank you, the nurse came in with a tray of piping hot soup and something else, presumably food, pre-packaged in small containers. 

“Lunch," she announced, placing the tray on the side table; she smiled friendly, seeing Goro dressed and out of bed. "Oh, look who's up and about! That's good news," she briskly grabbed the patient’s card and went on to scribble something down, as per usual. “How are you feeling? Any fever? How’s the pain?”

“I’m better, thank you,” Akechi muttered. She fussed for a while longer, took his temperature and left him in peace to eat. The soup smelled like water, and, according to Goro, tasted similarly. He eyed the lonely piece of carrot swimming amongst the rice grains with reserve.

The topic of food was a problematic one. Goro derided the diagnosis as imbecilic, especially that the doctors underlined the need to ‘eliminate stress factors’ to get better. But the fact remained: he had trouble digesting a meal properly or sometimes keeping it down. Thus, he was put on a strict diet. Ren wondered how long exactly he had struggled with this; gastric ulcers did not develop overnight. 

After begrudgingly drinking the soup, Goro opened the container with steamed vegetables and an omelette. He rolled the chopsticks in his fingers, swallowing nervously. His jaw set as if he couldn’t help but grit at the mere idea of more food.

“Come on, you have to eat.” Ren nudged him to get his attention.

“I’m not really hungry.”

“That’s not really true.”

“This doesn’t have a microgram of salt in it,” Goro complained and bit down on the broccoli. “The only thing that tastes normally in hospitals is the ice cream, and they won’t give me any.” 

“Nevertheless, you have to eat, or you won’t get better. I’d bring you a nice takeout from town, but Nami-san would totally throw us out,” Ren said. Goro nodded demurely, then turned his face away. Ren noticed that ever since this morning, his look kept migrating to the bedside table, where the passport sat safely in the drawer.

“As a matter of fact… where have you been all this time?” Ren sat closer to him on the bed. Yusuke lifted his head from the drawing he was perfecting, intrigued.

“Hokkaido,” Goro said, jabbing the carrot with the chopsticks. 

“Hokkaido?!” Yusuke exclaimed. “Enchanting! Beautiful, moody landscape, the jagged mountain chains covered in snow, the frozen sea in winter, do tell!”

Ren sighed discreetly. “I meant... where were you staying.”

“Oh, you’re worried I was squatting somewhere, without a roof over my head or a morsel to eat for days on end?” Goro’s eyebrows quirked and he tossed a playful glance in Yusuke’s direction. “You’re mistaking me for someone.” 

Ren bridled. “Look, if you don’t wanna tell, you don’t—”

“—It wasn’t that bad, actually.” Goro interrupted him. “I travelled as far as my funds would get me. I found the most isolated, scarcely populated settlement I could, it was… at the seaside. Close to Mori, you know? It’s in Kayabe.” Ren nodded. “It was… quiet. No service, no internet. People lived off land and fishing. There was this guy… just a geezer. He had trouble with the leg, so. I helped. I chopped wood and kept the place tidy. He would go to sea at dawn, come back with some fish. We’d eat together. It wasn’t bad.”

“He took you in?” Yusuke asked, carefully observing how Akechi’s expression softened around the edges.

“...I invited myself, and he didn’t say no.” Goro smiled faintly. “People in general tended to leave him alone. I think he could have been Ainu."

Ren and Yusuke exchanged sad, knowing glances. 

"When I became a bit less paranoid and assured no one will come looking for me, I started going to the nearby town. They had those big farms, fields, they needed seasonal workers. People came from all over Japan, even from Russia. No one asked questions. Some didn’t even speak Japanese.”

“Wait.” Ren smirked. “Are you telling me you had spent the full year teasing me mercilessly about being a country boy, and now you say you were working _on a_ _farm_? You’re just putting ammunition in my hands.”

“Oh, I’m not too worried,” Goro smirked. “You wouldn’t know a good riposte if it hit you in the face.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ren grinned. “Your banter is as limp as a noodle. Probably because you only had rice seedlings to talk down to.”

“ _It. wasn’t. a rice field_ ,” Akechi lifted the chopsticks like he was about to poke Ren on the forehead.

“A pumpkin patch, then?” Goro’s ears went visibly red. “Oh no, don’t tell me I got it right! I got it!!!” Ren laughed, while Akechi flicked a piece of sweet potato at him, in equal parts amused and pissed. 

“Just… fuck you, Amamiya,” He barked, but there was no real malice in his voice. Yusuke rolled his eyes for something that felt like the hundredth time these past two days.

“If you’re going to throw food around, you won’t be eating anymore, I presume?” Goro shook his head. “Okay. I’ll take it away. Don’t start a fight, you two.” He smiled; the container was mostly empty, apparently the not-so-tragic memory of the two years of solitude at the seaside helped Goro to nibble at the meal and keep it down. 

When Yusuke returned, Ren and Akechi were speaking softly. Goro was lying on the bed again; it was around his usual naptime, but he was holding on surprisingly well today. Yusuke slipped into the room swiftly and closed the blinds. Sneaking a hand under his sweater, he produced a small container of ice cream and a spoon.

“Y-you… did not just steal that,” Goro blinked at him, stunned.

“I just did. I’m a thief after all, am I not?” Yusuke smiled. 

Goro gave him an incredulous look, but grabbed the dessert eagerly. With the first spoon, he closed his eyes and gave a small, contented groan. 

“...Just like I remember,” He actually laughed. “Ice cream is the only good thing around here.”

“Were you in hospitals often?” Yusuke asked quietly, sitting on his bed opposite Ren. 

“Not really; it’s just that every cheap vanilla ice cream tastes the same.” He licked the spoon, wolfing down the sweet treat. “Like orange juice. Every orange juice tastes the same! It should vary, depending on the sweetness of the fruits, but it doesn’t. It’s always alike, packed with artificial flavours and colours, regardless of the brand.” He sighed, throwing his head back. “Oh, God... I could eat ten of those.” 

“You shouldn’t even eat this one,” a furious voice from the doorstep made them all jump. Nurse Nami entered the room and stepped close to the bed, cold fury written all over her face. “You are on a restricted diet, you are supposed to take the meds and keep them down, should I put you back on the IV?! Whose idea was this?”

Spoon in mouth, Goro immediately pointed at Ren. 

“...you little shit.” Ren mouthed, and Nami extended a hand regally, demanding the ice cream container. Goro stuffed his mouth full with two quick sweeps and gave her the empty box, a sudden grimace skewing his face as the cold spiked at his teeth roots.

“What, brain freeze?” Ren smiled with sweet venom, and Goro groaned. “Serves you right.”

“Out, you two,” Nami ordered angrily, snapping the blinds to the OR open. “You’re not required to sit with his highness twenty-four-seven. He’s going to be quite alright, I assure you! Come back tomorrow, and stick to normal visiting hours! Out, I said!”

Ren stifled a laugh and took the bag in hand. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Goro,” He said gently, and Akechi gave him a fracture of a smile. “I’m going to call you in the evening, if you don’t do it yourself.”

“I will.”

“We should have brought you some books,” Yusuke sighed, grabbing his coat and sticking the sketchbook under his armpit. 

“I have the phone,” Goro muttered. “I can read on that. Well, see you... I guess.” 

Yusuke stopped to look at him intently. “Of course,” he nodded. “Get some rest, Goro.”

Chased away by the fuming nurse, Ren and Yusuke left; Akechi listened to their retreating steps and voices for as long as he could, and then took in the silence of his suddenly empty, sterile room. 

He suddenly felt the urge to run. Goro reached under the white bathrobe and pinched the flesh of his thigh hard, twisting until it really hurt, until the thoughts ground to a screeching halt, until the freshly forming bruise sent a calming signal to his brain; _stay where you are. It’s nothing. It’s just a single afternoon. You have the surgery tomorrow. This is acceptable. You’ll sleep. You have to rest._

_Stay where you are._

Reaching to the bedside table, he grabbed the phone and the earbuds, stuck them into his ears with trembling fingers. He fumbled with the bandages on the touchscreen, keyed in the name of a website as fast as he could. When the first words and sounds of the audiobook started, he focused on deep breaths, trying to calm the irrational stress reaction; slowly he felt the panic retreating into the murky corners of his brain. 

He sighed, grabbed the edge of the blanket. Forced his uncooperative body to move, to make himself comfortable. 

It’s just a single afternoon.

**~*~**

Ren’s hands were warm around Yusuke’s elbow as they walked beside each other, Ren shielding him from the car passing by and splashing puddle water all over the pavement. Yusuke smiled at the affectionate gesture; he allowed him to lead the way, even though he realized they were taking a wrong turn.

“Home is that way,” he pointed out; Ren shrugged.

“I thought we could eat out today. Besides… I have something I wanted to talk with you about.”

They found their way to one of their favourite places. It was a small restaurant, holed in a back alley between some old office buildings and a furniture workshop which had been there for ages; the staff knew them and remembered their usual orders. They tactfully kept the patronage of a famous painter and his boyfriend under wraps, and Yusuke felt much more compelled to show closeness when he knew the gossip would not leak into the tabloids the very next day.

A friendly waiter, Tatsuya, dressed all in black and with an edgy tattoo of an octopus crawling up his arm, bid them a warm welcome and brought them to the deep end of the restaurant, seating them in one of the cozy booths. 

“Just the usual?” He smiled; Yusuke nodded. 

“Just the usual,” Ren smiled crookedly. “Some water, please, and maybe… a cup of _shōchū_ each?” 

Tatsyua just nodded and ran to pass their order on to the kitchen. Yusuke reached out to take Ren’s hand. 

“What is so scary that it requires alcohol to help put it into words?” He patted the calloused, hard-working hand, squeezed it reassuringly. “Did you want to talk about Akechi?”

Ren sighed deeply, braced himself behind the table.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” he reciprocated the hold gently. “I didn’t want to do anything without asking your opinion first. After the surgery he will be released and even if everything runs smoothly, the hand heals, he goes to therapy and all, it doesn’t mean the end of trouble for him. I want to know… how much am I allowed to assist him. I want to know I’m not crossing a line.”

Ren spoke in interrupted waves, pouring his heart out. He made some tentative calculations, plans, and clearly gave them a lot of thought. The first step was to help Akechi find a decent, cheap lodging, maybe a part-time job when he gets better, and to stay in daily contact with him in case he needed a quick evac from any stalkers. Ren wanted to make sure he could recommend him a good physiotherapist; he considered asking Ryuji for an opinion, since he already knew that Goro is alive. Still, Yusuke could sense Ren was holding back, that he’s purposefully avoiding certain topics - like keeping an eye on Goro’s mental health, or being watchful of sudden splurges on plane tickets to Europe. It would not be possible to simultaneously give Akechi the security he needed and the freedom he wanted, but Ren still insisted to do just that. Bending backwards to achieve it, and out of consideration for Yusuke’s boundaries, Ren had complicated the plan beyond belief.

It was clear as day that he couldn’t hold himself back, though. He just had to help. He had to try and keep Goro safe, even against his will, even if the effort would be ruined, wasted, toppled as easily as a card table. In the end, he couldn’t make himself do anything else.

Yusuke just sat there, listening, drinking of this pain and misery, and kept wondering why wasn’t his heart breaking - like on that fateful day over two years ago, when it shattered into fractals. When the pious, stained-glass image of his beloved leader and companion collapsed into splinters, one of which was still embedded deep inside Yusuke like an icy shard, holding him captive. Yusuke wondered why wasn’t his chest seizing, why wasn’t he drowning in jealousy, which should by all means blind him and steal his resolve away. Did it mean he had prepared himself well? Did it mean he got used to it? Was he loving Ren less, or...? 

“Yusuke?” Ren called. “You spaced out. Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” the artist answered quickly, straightened in the booth. “Please, continue.”

Ren lowered his eyes, a little uncertain. “I have nothing else to say,” he muttered. “Can you tell me what you think?” He fidgeted with the napkin, every muscle in his body tense.

“Certainly. I will be quick.” Yusuke reached for the sketchpad he kept carrying everywhere. He cleared some space in front of Ren and put a thick page of watercolor paper in front of him.

It was a picture of Goro, sketched in pencil.

“He sleeps like I used to,” Yusuke’s voice was melancholic. “Before we moved in together. Protecting the soft parts. It’s terribly ugly to be quite frank, it’s done instinctively; I guess it’s called a fetal position for a reason.” Yusuke brushed the hair behind his ear nervously. He reached for the second page.

It was a study of hands. Palms up, lax; palms closed, gripping the sheet. The minute details of the frostbitten, peeling skin, the fine-grained texture of the bandage captured perfectly. Calluses, abrasions, a split fingernail. 

“I knew he was doing physical labour before he brought that up,” Yusuke explained. “In fact, he has very beautiful hands. Perfect bone structure, wide setting of fingers, dainty wrists. I’m sure he would rather preserve them, he used to wear gloves all the time; but what remains is rather… worn down.” Yusuke swallowed. He was studying Ren’s face intently.

Next sketch. The full arm, captured from the shoulder to the fingertips. A hastily sketched figure of a woman above it. Very detailed, swollen, dark groove of sutures, sticking out oddly from the surface of the skin. Yusuke must have sketched it during a change of dressing.

“I’ve done some reading,” Yusuke started. “Any surgery involving nerves or tendon repair is difficult. It’s a very invasive procedure. The pain will be…” He hesitated. “...excruciating. If it were me, I would be afraid.” 

Ren nodded, taking the sketch in hand. He did some reading as well.

“If the surgery is a success, and everything heals properly, he still needs to face physiotherapy. It’s not a quick, simple matter. We’re talking months, a year, maybe more. At first he’s going to need help with daily activities. He cannot be left on his own.” Yusuke said with a small shrug, as if that fact alone was an argument powerful enough to wrap this discussion up. And judging from Yusuke’s personal experiences, maybe it was. 

Next sketch. Goro’s eyes opened wide, unseeing, trapped in whatever memory he was reliving. Breath caught in his chest, bloodied fingers clawing at the covers. The crate of LeBlanc’s window at the attic, throwing a shadow over his form.

“I’ve seen this expression enough times during the past three days to draw it from memory,” Yusuke commented. “He seems to be suffering from the same condition you have faced yourself. He was unwilling to talk about it with me, and I don’t dare to speculate, especially that he has… more issues involved. But whatever he is seeing in his dreams… is a thorn which will only come out with flesh.”

He put the next drawing on the table. Ren felt his throat clench so hard he couldn’t breathe.

The scar. The wiry, star-shaped scar on his back, the sealed exit wound in the middle. His whole shoulder blade, disfigured. Ren fought for breath, wiped his eyes quickly and cleared his throat, trying to find proper words. What he was seeing shocked him, but the fact that Yusuke only saw this for a couple of seconds and was able to recreate it with such accuracy blew his mind away. 

“You’re amazing, Yusuke.” He choked out. “You truly are… amazingly talented.”

The painter smiled briefly. He reached for the next drawing.

“This is how he looks at you when he thinks you can’t see,” he said in a small voice, and presented a picture of Goro propped up on the pillows, with all the tubes, cables and electrodes still attached, looking at something in the distance with unbelievable, suffocating sadness. Ren’s hands balled into fists; he felt like he couldn't stop the tears from coming any longer.

“...Yusuke, please.” He whispered.

“I’m almost finished,” Yusuke soothed, and quickly covered the last sketch with a new one. “This is from today.” 

Goro laughing. The corners of his eyes were wrinkled in a smile, his mouth open in a genuine fit of laughter. The tray of lunch still on his lap, the chopsticks held elegantly in his less proficient hand. A half-undone, mussed ponytail Ren had tied for him earlier. On top of the page, another detail study - Ren recognized his own hand, holding Goro's limp, bandaged palm.

"He's only like that with you. He speaks to others easily enough, but he only banters with you. Only you can force him to show something other than wariness - you make him smile. He rises to your every challenge, but he also lowers his guard. With you."

Ren started at the picture mutely, his head held so low that the black locks covered his eyes.

"Speaking of you," Yusuke reached for the last sketch. "This is how _you_ look, when you think _he_ can't see."

Ren's head whipped up and two fat tears fell from his eyes in two parallel lines, splashing on the paper.

He shook his head vehemently, words of explanation already spilling forth. "Akechi is…"

"I know," Yusuke's hands reached across the table, beckoned Ren into their grip. He followed hesitantly. "I know how much he means to you. I also remember your promise. I have your oath. ‘Ren Amamiya is not going to leave me’."

" _Never_ ," Ren stressed the word.

"Then I say, let him stay with us in Camelot. Let him stay, until he's ready to move on." 

Ren's shoulders shook. He gripped Yusuke's hands tighter, fighting with himself, but losing.

"...Because you know he will," Yusuke dared to voice it, as gently as he could. "You know he'll leave. I... I'm sorry, but I cannot see a scenario where he forgets about revenge, admits to himself what he's feeling, accepts it for what it is and makes a move to... commit to a relationship."

Ren just shrugged. "I know," he said with an exhausted smile. 

"There is a chance that he will never even reciprocate." Yusuke squeezed harder, as if to lend the other some strength. "That he will never be ready."

“That’s fine.” Ren squeezed back.

Yusuke took a deep breath.

“But that would be cruel to you.” 

Ren recognized the line; he closed his eyes and brought Yusuke’s hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. “I can take it. It doesn’t matter; that’s what I want.” 

Yusuke sighed heavily, shook his head, pondering his words. 

“The two of you... Bound by the red string of fate. I always thought it such a cliché, until I saw it with my own eyes. I can’t deny it... but I can’t comprehend it either. Ren, you... truly are unfortunate.” 

“But I don’t think I am,” Ren nuzzled Yusuke’s hand, deep in thought. “In fact, I think I’m rather happy.” At Yusuke’s low hum, he elaborated, still not letting go. “I may be bound to Goro by fate - and still I may not be able to save him. It may bring me suffering and nothing else. That’s fine by me. Because I am also bound to you, and by choice. Which I proved many a time to be of equal value, if not more important. And you… You bring me peace. My heart knows no other home.”

Yusuke did not expect that. He sat there, stunned, but then he surged forward and brought their foreheads together. 

Their eyes met above the sketch; Ren took in the sight of his own face, his expression playful, intense, lively, the closest he was to Joker in years. He stole a kiss before he thought better about it, and Yusuke just let him do it.

“Can I ask you something?” Ren whispered, smoothing the hair behind Yusuke’s ear. The artist nodded. “All that you’re doing… all those concessions you are willing to make. Is it because of Hajime-kun?”

Yusuke’s eyes widened. Ren loosened his grip, in case he wanted to move away and retreat to the safe space demarcated by the table between them, but Yusuke just sighed.

“Am I that obvious...?” His eyelashes fluttered. “I can’t change the past. I can’t change my choices, no matter how much I regret them. But… I can make better ones now, I suppose.” 

Ren didn’t hurry him up; Yusuke hung his head. 

“I stood by, I saw the abuse, I knew his pain... I did nothing. I allowed this to happen to Hajime. When you grieved, I did nothing. When that bulkhead cut Akechi off, I just stood there. We could have done something, we could have blasted that thing to pieces, we could have ran towards him, we would have taken out those shadows, but... I stood there, frozen, doing nothing. I cannot do that again. I will never look at myself in the mirror if I step aside doing nothing _again_. I will lose all respect I have for myself if I fold now.”

Ren nodded against his forehead. “I understand.” 

“That’s not all.” Yusuke swallowed hard. “I would lie if I told you I took those sketches only for your sake. I’m... very taken with Goro as a subject. He is a lot like you, and I see myself in him, too. And yet, he’s unlike anybody I ever met. His spirit, his self, is... is… ah, what’s the word.” He fell silent for a while.

“...Fascinating?” Ren supplied.

Yusuke examined the thought, then nodded with full confidence. “Yes, that’s correct. I’m fascinated with him.” 

**~*~**

They spent a lot more time in the café than they should. There were things to be done, errands to run, paintings to finish and overdue fixed PC parts to be dispatched. Yet no matter how urgent and nagging the obligations seemed, the couple didn't feel like moving, lost in their thoughts and the wistful tune of an unknown indie rock in the background. When a waiter came by their table, picking up on their mood and suggesting one more cup of _shōchū_ , Ren simply nodded. 

When the sting and burn of the alcohol flushed his cheeks and loosened his tongue, Yusuke nudged Ren's sleeve. He played with the cuff and stroked the inside of Ren’s wrist with a finger; Ren gave him a smoldering stare from beneath his bangs.

"I need you tonight," Yusuke said.

Ren bit his lip. "Yeah. Me too."

They paid quickly and left, saying nothing else.


End file.
